#and I can’t have a hot drink in my work station | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

velvetyh · 2 months ago

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⌜Ticket to Temptation⌝

꒰ PAIRING ꒱ Police Captain!Juyeon x implied fem!reader ꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ Provoking a police officer just for fun didn't end up the way you thought it would... is it bad, though? ꒰ WORD COUNT ꒱ 7.2k (I am so sorry) ꒰ TW ꒱ very poorly written, 18+, (semi?) car sex, public sex, lots of pet names, attempt at writing sexual tension, y/n calling Juyeon "Captain", ass spanking, oral (fem receiving), doggy style, degrading praising pet names ꒰ NOTE ꒱ the beginning of the fic is the same as my previous fic with eric!! I got a sweet person asking for an alternate fic in the same genre, so here it is! feedback is greatly appreciated !! <3 ꒰ REQUESTED ꒱ yes! sort of? (thank you for your ask, btw! <3)

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“Good morning, Officer,” you greeted with a smile as you exited your vehicle parked not far from the police station to get to your work.

Honestly, working next to a police station had its benefits. Seeing handsome men in uniform was always a sight to see and knowing that they could be there in the snap of a finger in case of emergency reassured you.

“Morning, ma’am,” the officer answered after finishing talking to a colleague through a talkie-walkie, giving you a polite nod and a brief smile. You keep walking until you hear the same voice calling out for you.

“Ma’am, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” you turned around, looking in the man's eyes with a smile. He maintained eye contact briefly before clearing his throat, shoving his hand into his uniform pocket.

“You are the owner of this car, right?” he asked as he pointed at your black Audi RS3, and you nodded, staring up at him.

“Yes, why?”

“It’s not the first time that I've seen it poorly parked, you should be careful. It might disturb the traffic and cause an accident, or someone could accidentally smash it if they’re not paying enough attention,” you obediently nodded again, offering him your best smile.

“I promise to be careful next time. Have a good day, Officer!”

However, the next morning, you parked yourself the same way you did yesterday, the same police officer standing in front of the station. You got out of your car as if it were nothing, but you immediately bumped against a broad chest, recognising the same masculine fragrance as yesterday.

“Yes, Officer Sohn,” you mumbled as his name tag was almost hitting your nose at your proximity.

“Good.” You stared up at him for a few seconds and apologised again before he stepped aside, nodding again before walking away, going back to his spot in front of the police station.

You were doing this on purpose because he was hot, and the uniform didn’t help at all. You wanted to see how long you could play dumb until it went too far, but what could happen aside from a fine?

Maybe something amazing? you considered.

The next morning, you weren’t in the mood to play. You had started your day pretty badly, the waitress at the Starbucks drive-through had accidentally spilt your beverage on your brand-new blouse as she handed you your drink, not only ruining the fabric but also your mood and your good hopes of having a good day. And after being stuck in traffic for god knows how long, you finally made it to your workplace.

“Ma’am, this time-“

“Yes, Officer, I know that I’m not parked inside the lines, I know. Have you seen the side of your parking spaces and my car? It won’t fit, and I can’t take public transport from where I live, it’s way too far from my workplace to function properly the rest of the day. So just give me a fine so I can move on from this shitty day,” you snapped at the officer, whose eyes opened widely, and he took a step back, giving you space.

You sighed in annoyance and stared up at him, seeing him keeping a relaxed attitude somehow managed to calm you down a bit, which was something unexplainable.

“Rough morning?” he calmly asked, hand going to his talkie-walkie on his shoulder to quickly dismiss it as his colleague's voice buzzed from it.

“Yes, this morning's rough. I just want to go home to forget about everything,” you annoyingly said while looking at the traffic jam in front of you, the police officer looking at you with his hands on his hips.

“Okay, this is the very last time I let you run away with this. I’m being very indulgent with you today because I don’t want to worsen your day. Consider yourself lucky not to have met my superior yet. Captain Lee is not as lenient as I am, trust me. He would’ve fined you each time you wrongly parked, as well as the window tints that seem a bit darker than allowed,” Officer Sohn stated, his finger grazing against your windows, barely able to see the steering wheel and the front seats.

“Everything is up to date and in compliance with current requirements, Officer,” you spat, crossing your arms against your chest, hissing as the remaining bits of coffee went through the fabric onto your skin.

“If you say so,” Officer Sohn sighed, not convinced at all by your words, “when you arrive tomorrow, I strongly advise you park well, understood? I might not be on duty here tomorrow, so I won’t be able to let you get away with it.”

“Fine. Have a good day, Officer,” you mumbled while locking your car, leaving the police officer on the pavement and watching you angrily enter the building you worked at.

Your day didn’t get better despite praying whatever God to help you. As soon as you stepped foot in the building, the big boss saw you with your stained top and had to share his opinion in front of everyone, telling your manager that she wasn’t doing a great job at teaching her employees the company dress code.

So, of course, when the CEO was out of sight, she took all her anger on you, and it exploded in a big fight in the open space. All the precedent events had already angered you, but this was just the cherry on top. You almost said things that could have gotten you fired, and you were frustrated when she took her afternoon off for “personal issues”, leaving you to take care of all her daily assignments alone.

When you got out of work, you were mad at the world, ready to punch someone and yell out your frustration. You were thankful your intern was a hardworking person and tried to handle the work you gave him on his own, feeling bad when he walked on eggshells to ask for guidance, kind of scared of you after witnessing your row with your manager.

Car keys in hand, you walked to your parking spot, only to find it empty.

Your car was no longer there.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled, looking around, as if you had become delirious throughout the day and parked it somewhere else. No, no, it was supposed to be parked in front of the police station, on the left side of the main door. Yet, your Audi was nowhere to be seen.

Stepping foot into the police station, you cleared your throat as anger rose in your chest, finding Officer Sohn at a desk, focusing on a task on his computer.

“Officer?” you asked, and he looked up, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your figure.

“Ma’am? How can I help?”

“I am looking for my car, a black RS3 Audi. I parked it right there this morning.”

“I remember, yeah,” he smirked, the vivid argument between you two coming back to mind.

“Well? Do you happen to know where it is?”

“I know where it is,” a voice rose from behind you, making you turn around.

A tall, muscular figure appeared from the staircase, a serious frown on his lips contrasting with the curious softness that his eyes held. The weight of the bulletproof vest he wore didn’t seem to bother him, his movements as fluid as water. Slender fingers pushed some hair away from his face as he confidently approached you.

“You’re looking for an Audi RS3? Black, tinted windows? Poorly parked?” his deep voice made you shiver, and you nodded.

“Yeah, that’s my-“

“Towed to the pound,” he proudly stated, your face falling in shock making him smirk.

“What?” you almost screamed.

This day couldn’t get any worse.

“Did you really tow my car? Just for two wheels outside the parking lot? Don’t you have other things to do, like arresting real criminals, Officer?”

You failed to notice Officer Sohn’s eyes growing wide at the title you gave the man, the latter angrily scowling at you.

“First and foremost, when someone does not respect the laws, they are, in my eyes, a criminal. You didn’t park the way your little instructor taught you during your little driving lessons, so that makes you a valid criminal.”

You scoffed, your reaction not amusing the man in front of you.

“And, ma’am, for the record, this little symbol you see here,” he patted his upper torso with a smirk, “makes me a Captain.”

You read the name on his uniform.

Captain Juyeon Lee.

Oh shit.

You briefly looked at Officer Sohn, whose eyes held some sympathy in them mixed with an “I told you” gaze.

“Respect goes both ways,” he continued, “I’d like you to address me as Captain Lee from now on.” His serious, menacing tone was meant to impress you, but you were far from it.

“Fine, Captain Lee,” you stressed the word “Captain”, earning a bitter smile from the high-ranked policeman. “Since you oh so nicely towed my car to the pound on the other side of town, how do you expect me to go home in reasonable hours, when I live in the village downtown, two hours and a half away from here ?”

“There’s a bus leaving in… now actually, to go there,” Captain Lee smirked while checking his watch, and your eyes bore into his, your pupils sending him daggers that he ignored.

He found it quite amusing the way you were looking at him. Almost…cute.

“Or you could call an Uber and then go home,” he suggested, making you scoff again.

“An Uber? To this side of town? I can’t believe you are being serious right now,” you mumbled the last sentence, shaking your head at his dumb remark. “I won’t be your next murder case to investigate just to keep you busy, since you’re so bored that you like to bother people for two tyres,” you took a step and stared at him, the Captain not budging.

“Then there’s nothing else I can do for you, ma’am,” he stated, walking around you to get to his desk, soon followed by two officers.

You huffed, exiting the station to get some fresh air. Officer Sohn was right, he really was something else. He was not as patient as him.

On the other hand, you were the one to blame, you provoked it. By wanting to see how far you could go without getting a fine, you played and got burned. Now you pay the price of being stuck in the city and not having a car to go home.

“I’m fucking dumb,” you mumbled to yourself, typing on your phone as you tried to think of a solution, a hand flying to your hair to tug on some strands.

Your manager lived down the street. Hell no, with what happened this morning, you’d rather set yourself on fire than knock at her door for help. The CEO? Super weird. The intern? Even worse.

A few droplets of water landing on your head got you out of your deep thoughts. You stepped back when the droplets intensified, and you defeatedly watched the rain abruptly pour on the streets, people running in front of you to seek shelter.

Great. Today was officially the worst day of your life.

You sighed, stuffing your phone in your bag as you mentally prepared yourself to go to the nearest coffee to quench your thirst and think of a way to go home. Your heels clicked on the pavement, your hand rising to your face to shield your eyes and brows from the rain, ready to trot to a bar or whatever building could offer you something to drink.

As you were about to step away from the police station into the rain, a strong hand seized your biceps, dragging you in the other direction. You shrieked and tried to set your arm free, but the grip was stronger than you thought. Looking up, you growled in annoyance as you recognised the same jet-black hair and bulletproof vest from a few moments earlier.

“What did I do now? Did I breathe incorrectly? Were my heels too loud on the tarmac for the neighbourhood? Did I huff too loudly?” Captain Lee shook his head from side to side with an amused smile on his face at your words, his eyes rolling as you tried to set yourself free again. This time, he didn’t fight and let go of your arm. He unlocked his police car in a swift motion and opened the passenger door.

“Get in,” he ordered.

“What for?” you questioned, and he sighed, wordlessly gesturing you to sit down. You growled but obliged, startled at the force he used to slam the door shut.

A few seconds later, he’s next to you, turning the engine on.

“You’re lucky Sohn is a nice guy. Seatbelt,” he ordered.

“What do you mean?” you side-eyed the police officer, his words making you look at him.

“You’re lucky he can read people well and has good arguments,” you stared at his hand on the steering wheel, effortlessly shifting gears as you slowly exited the city.

You remained silent for an instant. That’s when you realised where you were heading—the car pound.

“Thank you,” you mumbled and crossed your arms against your torso, shifting to the right side to slightly turn your back to him, your body suddenly seized by comfort and exhaustion as you could begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

You didn’t know if it was his cologne, his way of driving or the warmth oozing from the seat heater that got you so relaxed, but you weren’t going to complain. It was nice, almost making you forget about your terrible day.

“I’m not the one you should thank for this, I’m doing this so Sohn doesn’t throw a tantrum in the middle of the police station. You have a lot in common you two, I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up together,” his last sentence sounded like a backhanded compliment, but you took it, nonetheless.

“It’s still better than being rude and arrogant,” you mumbled, and the Captain’s brows rose to the sky, slamming on the brakes as you arrived at a stop sign. You were startled, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t make me regret listening to my colleague,” he mumbled through his gritted teeth, turning on his indicator before making a right turn.

The rest of the journey to the car pound was quiet, only the sound of the car engine filling in the silence. Despite his shitty attitude, the Captain next to you was quite handsome. Long neck, high cheekbones, slender fingers, flawless skin, and a muscular body, he was well-proportioned. The uniform added a little something to his charm. Or it was maybe just your uniform kink speaking up.

When you arrived at the car pound, the rain had stopped but it was stuffy. A storm was not far from breaching the sky, the clouds were so dark that you were expecting thunder at any moment. Not something you were looking forward to going home with.

“I hope they took good care of my car,” you mumbled as you walked next to the Captain. His boots hit the ground in a soft thud, matching your pace as you were still in your office clothes.

“Come on, it’s just a heap of metal pieces,” Captain Lee stated, and you stifled a growl of annoyance by deeply sighing.

“To you, maybe. I cherish it a lot, I worked so hard to afford it,” you retorted.

“If you say so,” he shrugged, and you huffed.

“Yes, I say so.”

You didn’t have time to argue further that the guy responsible for the car pound greeted you with a professional smile.

“Captain! You are back already?”

“Yes I am, joined by the culprit in person,” the guy laughed, and you scowled at the police officer, who briefly looked down at you with a satisfied smirk.

That fucker was enjoying playing with your nerves.

“I was not expecting such a pretty lady to own a car like this one,” he said, and you offered him a fake smile.

“Yet here I am,” you said, voice emotionless, the guy not taking the hint that you didn’t find him funny.

“Follow me, please,” the grey-haired man led the way, Captain Lee’s hand hovering in your lower back made you shiver.

The walk to your car was muddy and perilous in heels, Captain Lee had to catch your arm once to prevent you from falling face-first in a puddle of mud.

“What a good idea to come here in heels,” he sarcastically said, making you roll your eyes.

“Your fault,” you mumbled, readjusting your bag strap on your shoulder.

“My fault?”

“Yes, your fault! If you took care of burglars and thieves rather than bothering a woman that just tries to do her job, we wouldn’t be there,” you pettily retorted and the guy laughed, enjoying your bickering with the police officer, who simply scoffed.

“You remind me of my wife and me when we were younger,” your face turned into a frown that thankfully no one saw. You didn’t say anything and kept walking.

Your heart lightened a bit when you saw your car, but your face immediately fell when you saw how muddy it was.

“What the fuck happened to my car? It was clean when I arrived at work this morning!” you exclaimed, walking around it to check if there were any shocks or dents in the body of the car.

“Ahh, this,” the guy embarrassingly scratched the back of his head, looking down as he felt the Captain’s questioning eyes on him, “it’s probably my employees. They can’t resist testing them when they see cars like this.”

You were going to murder someone.

“And you’re going to let that slide, Captain?” you spat, drawing the officer’s attention on you, as he seemed quite interested in your car, despite what he had told you earlier.

“Do you have proof that they did it?” he argued back, and you resisted the urge to strangle him by breathing deeply.

“He just confessed!” you yelled, and the Captain shrugged.

“I would need stronger proof to incriminate them,” you closed your eyes, focused on your breathing pattern, and nodded. Reopening them, they were glossy with tears, the car emitting a low “click” as you unlocked it with your keys.

“Do I need to pay for something?” you asked no one in particular, the two male figures blurry because of your tears. You noticed that the car guy was slightly embarrassed by the situation, Captain Lee remaining the same stoic man as before.

“225 000,00 Won for the journey and parking here,” the car guy mumbled, and you got your wallet and got the bank notes that he requested.

“Here you go. Captain, feel free to send me a fine for my parking by post, I’ll pay it as soon as I receive it. Have a good evening,” you mumbled as you entered your car, carefully driving on the road, the police car soon a memory.

“Fucking assholes,” you mumbled through gritted teeth as you reached the main road, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

Maybe your reaction was a bit too much, but it left the two men too stunned to speak. The car guy was embarrassed by his employees’ behaviour, and Captain Lee was silent.

He had pushed your buttons for hours when you were already on the edge and eventually, you broke down. He had done that in the past with witnesses to check if they were telling the truth or not. Normally, he enjoyed watching the culprit break down in tears and confess their crime, yet here he wasn’t as satisfied as usual.

He felt bad. Guilty, per se.

He bid farewell to the car guy and paced back to his car, starting the engine as he followed your path. The thunder was raging in the middle of the town, he could see the lightning bolts illuminating the sky as he drove back to the civilisation.

Captain Lee paused at the same stop sign, yet not abruptly this time. He took a quick second to think logically. He had two chances: either you drove straight back home, or you went to the closest car wash station from here.

Turning on his blue and red lights, he floored the gas pedal and drove to the nearest car wash station he knew.

The distant sound of a siren drew your attention as you finished inspecting your car, relieved that, after a good wash, your vehicle was intact as before. You got back into your car as the siren got closer. Soon blue, and red lights were illuminating your face as you watched in your rearview mirror. With a sigh, you noticed Captain Lee approaching your window. Anger washed over you and you got out of your car, startling the Captain. You noticed that his hand was quick to go to his holster – probably a force of habit – before going back to his pocket.

You wordlessly side-eyed him as you tore the dark tint on each of your windows, crumpling up the pieces in a big, black plastic ball before handing it to him.

“Here you go, Captain. My car is now 100% in compliance with your current requirements. Happy?” you questioned and forced the ball of waste to his chest for him to take.

His hand seized your wrist, much gentler this time. His softness startled you, making you look at him with furious eyes to make your confusion.

“Things went too far, ma’am. I didn’t mean to make you cry, I’m sorry,” his baritone voice was calm and low, sending vibrations in your heart.

You sighed, swallowing the lump in the throat that was threatening to rise, again. Captain Lee had to resist the urge to wipe the streaks of dry mascara under your eyes, forcing his hands back in his pockets as he let go of your forearm.

“It’s not entirely your fault. I had a really shitty day, all of this just made me exhausted and– .”

“I didn’t help to ease the situation. I wanted to apologise, it went too far,” he cut you.

“I appreciate your apology, Captain,” your mouth stretched in a small, tired smile, which the officer replicated almost immediately.

A few seconds passed as you kept staring at each other, Captain Lee carefully stepping closer to you as he saw you didn’t budge the first time.

The wind softly blew a few pieces of hair in your face. Juyeon’s fingers were quick to place them back behind your ear, much to your surprise. His body worked quicker than his brain, realising way too late what he had done.

“You do this to every woman that cries out of frustration in front of you?” you teased.

The police officer smirked, studying your facial features.

You were beautiful.

“Only to the pretty ones that throw tantrums like a child and drive a black Audi RS3,” he mumbled. You rolled your eyes, Juyeon’s hand quick to seize your jaw to make you look at him, his actions surprising you.

“You drive me nuts with those eye rolls,” he mumbled, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Yet you’re the one causing them,” you retorted in a mumble, now stuck between the side of your car and the bulletproof vest Juyeon was wearing, his knee slotting itself between your legs.

“But not for the good reasons,” your eyes studied his and you thickly swallowed when you saw his eyes briefly drop to your lips.

His free hand joined the other that was holding your jaw to cradle your face between them. Another pang of guilt hit his heart as his thumbs were stroking the salted, dry skin under your eyes because of the tears he caused.

“May I?” he whispered in a hushed voice. Immediately knowing what he wanted, you nodded, and his lips were on yours the following second.

The kiss was passionate and vivid. It held so many emotions that your head spun. You felt how sorry he was but soon after, how much he needed that. Your lips moved in sync, his tongue begging for entrance. When you granted him his wish, he was quick to fight for dominance and you gave in, a hand fisting his hair while your other arm was around his neck, trying to keep yourself grounded and steady in this kiss.

When you pulled away from his lips, you were breathless, heart rummaging in your chest. You had never been kissed like that by anyone, yet you adored it. You wanted more. Juyeon wasted no time and peppered your jaw and neck with hungry kisses, nipping and licking at the skin to rile you up.

“Officer,” you said in a moan, choking on a squeal when Juyeon’s hand harshly collided with your ass.

“You know you’re not supposed to call me that,” he grunted, pulling away from you. You whined from the lack of warmth his body provided you.

“Captain,” you corrected yourself, and he smirked, his hand spanking you again, softer this time, before whispering you to jump.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and linking your legs at the small of his back, Juyeon effortlessly walked you back to his cruiser, opening the passenger door and gently settling you down on. Finding the handle underneath the seat, he rolled it away from the dashboard and inclined it down. You were in such a comfortable position that you could almost take a nap, yet Juyeon had other plans for you that sounded more exciting.

“You okay, darling?” he asked, and you nodded, smiling as he removed his bulletproof vest from his chest to take off his shirt. The sight almost made you drool, his muscular body begging to be touched. You couldn’t resist and felt his abs with your hand, the gesture making him smirk.

“Like what you see?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” you shamelessly answered, and he smirked, diving back to your mouth to kiss you before settling on his knees in the small space between your seat and the dashboard.

“Pretty girl got her heels so dirty,” he said as he seized your calf and removed your shoes one after the other, carelessly tossing them in the backseat.

Goosebumps rose in your body as his mouth started to kiss your skin from your calf up to your knees, his hands bunching up your pencil skirt in the process to get access to the skin of your thighs. His mouth was hot against your shivering skin, your breath catching in your throat as he was at eye-level with your core. Looking up, he kissed the inner parts of your thigh, earning a low moan from you as he progressively got closer to your core.

“More, Captain. I need more,” you whined, and he smirked, his hands caressing your calves up and down.

“More of what?” he teased, and you wiggled like a maggot, attempting to get your core closer to his mouth.

“Of you,” you breathily mumbled, “I need your mouth on me.”

A high-pitched groan escaped your lips when he pressed his lips against your clothed core, his tongue poking your entrance in a teasing manner. You were already withering under his touch, and he had barely done anything. He could feel how wet you were through the fabric, his ego flying through the roof that he was the one leaving you in such a putty state.

“I promise I’ll be a good girl,” you seemed to have found the right words to get under his skin, your begging awakening something inside him that blood rushed straight to his cock.

“Yeah? You promise you’ll park well tomorrow?”

“I promise, Captain.”

“Good girl,” he kissed your hip bone, and you whined, your core clenching around nothing when he pulled your panties down in a swift motion, the air welcoming your folds in a fresh embrace that made you audibly gasp.

“Such a pretty cunt, so wet, just for me,” he stated as he trailed his fingers down to your glistening slit, earning a back arch from you.

Your hand fisted his hair when he dragged his tongue from your slit to your clit, giving it special attention as your lustful moans spurred him on. His tongue rolled and licked around your clit, his fingers teasing your entrance as your legs wrapped themselves around his head.

“Oh my god, fuck!” you moaned as Juyeon inserted two fingers inside your warmth, humming at how wet you were thanks to him. Turning his palm to the sky and hooking up his fingers, he started licking your clit harder and pounding his fingers inside you at such a rapid pace that you were barely controlling your moans.

“You sound so pretty for me, darling,” he praised you, smirking as his words made you clench around his fingers, making a mental note of it, “do you like how I make you feel?” he asked, his free hand playing with one of your breasts over your shirt.

You hummed in agreement as your shaky hands tried to undo the first few buttons of your shirt, passing it over your head to reveal your bra. Juyeon hummed as he saw the black lingerie decorating your chest and caressed it, feeling the warm, bouncy flesh against his palm while his other hand was still buried inside your pussy.

“Put your feet on the dashboard for me, love,” he ordered in a whisper, and you immediately obliged, allowing his fingers to reach deeper inside you, making you groan in pleasure.

“Oh my god, Captain, please keep going, that feels so good,” your voice was getting weaker as your orgasm was approaching thanks to his fingers and tongue skills, the public situation of your dirty little business only increasing your sensitivity and pleasure.

“Does it?” he questioned, and you moaned as an answer, urging Juyeon to pick up the pace by seizing his forearm and pushing his fingers harder and quicker inside you.

The message was loud and clear for Juyeon, who immediately removed your hand and latched his mouth around your clit, loudly suckling on it. His moans against your sensitive skin sent jolts of electricity in your body, the knot in your stomach close to snapping. You wanted to last a bit more, but the feeling was becoming overwhelming when Juyeon added a third finger, stretching you out like no one had done before.

You cried in pleasure, Juyeon smirking against your pussy as your moans were making him as hard as a branch.

“C-Can I cum?” you begged between staggered breaths, your fingers playing with your breasts.

You were being a good girl to him, asking in such a pretty, begging voice if you could finish. He really had to resist the urge to just remove his fingers and instead stick his cock deep into your core.

“Cum for me, pretty girl, you deserve it. You had a long day today,” he mumbled, his fingers still entering you at a rapid pace as his other hand left your breast to play with your clit.

His attentive words pushed you over the edge. Juyeon felt the force of your orgasm by how strong your core was clenching around his fingers, almost preventing him from moving. Your voice was strained as you loudly moaned, a mix of “Captain” and “Juyeon”, as well as profanities shamelessly leaving your pretty, bruised lips from biting them too much.

What a pretty sight that was for Juyeon. He had made his ex-girlfriends cum before, but not this hard and not with just his fingers and tongue. His dick was rock hard as you slowly came back to your senses, chest heavily heaving up and down, eyes glazed with lust and tiredness. You whimpered when Juyeon removed his fingers glistening with your release, sucking them clean. A lazy smile decorated your mouth at his action, grabbing Juyeon by the back of the neck to taste yourself on his lips.

“You’re so sexy,” he whispered against your mouth, your shaky hands caressing his warm torso. You wanted more of him, your hand unbuckling his belt as you pressed your mouth against his.

Your curious fingers eventually found the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down to reveal his hard cock. It was girthy but mostly long, leaking with precum, his balls feeling heavy in your hand. It jolted when you wrapped your digits around it, giving a few sharp strokes, earning a deep groan from the police officer on top of you.

“Easy, pretty girl, I wanna last,” you giggled at his words and kissed his lips, Juyeon blindly searching for something in the compartment of the centre console armrest.

“What are you doing?” you asked while kissing his neck, your hand still lustfully stroking him.

“I’m looking for a condom,” he grunted and softly moaned in your ear when you teased his slit.

“Awn…. Scared your pull-out game isn’t strong enough?” you teased, and he grabbed your throat, pinching your nipple as he planted his gaze in yours.

“Would you prefer getting knocked up by a total stranger?” he retorted.

“If it’s a hot, dark-haired Captain named Juyeon Lee, I wouldn’t mind,” you joked with a bright smile, the man in front of you capturing your lips in a swift kiss to shush you.

You giggled when he flipped you around and spanked your cheeks with a grunt, your laugh turning into a moan as the pain increased the wetness pooling down your leg.

“I take what I said earlier back, you’re such a dirty, bad girl,” he punctuated the downgrading nickname with a harsh spank, making you moan.

“See, your moaning confirms that I’m right,” he snorted, and you pushed your bum backwards to get him to keep going.

“Fuck me please, Captain?” you looked behind and feigned innocence, offering big doe eyes to Juyeon.

After eventually finding a condom and rolling it on his hard shaft, Juyeon neared his tip to your entrance, easily sliding it in thanks to your wet cunt. You loudly moaned his name and earned a spank from the police officer, his hands holding your hips as he pushed himself further inside you. He was so long, you felt like his tip was poking your stomach when he bottomed out.

“You feel so tight,” he grunted through gritted teeth as you clenched around him.

“You’re so long, gosh. You fill me up so well,” you closed your eyes as you laid the side of your head against the headrest, enjoying how good his dick was filling you, Juyeon’s chest resting against your back as he was moaning in your ear, his fingers teasing your clit just to rile you up and get you even wetter.

“As if we were meant to be, mh?” he mumbled in the shell of your ear and you nodded, his hips rolling against yours in slow thrusts, letting you adjust to his length. He didn’t want to go all in at the beginning because he knew that he wouldn’t last two minutes, especially with the way you were moaning his ranking.

Plus, backshots were always one of his favourite positions to use during sex. With you, it was even better than the times with other girls. He loved to see his cock going in and out of your cunt, how your wetness was coating his shaft, the excess pooling at the rim of it and slowly drooling down to his balls. Your back was arching like a cat stretching, allowing him to caress the soft skin and decorate it with kisses or bites. Your ass colliding with his hips was also a sight to see, the red imprints of his hands slowly forming on the soft flesh from all the spanking.

Juyeon’s hand came to grab your neck and push you deeper into the seat, granting his cock better access to the depth of your core. He reached further inside you, triggering your g-spot and making you scream in pleasure, your thighs slowly starting to shake. You had to fight the urge to let your eyes roll at the back of your head at how good Juyeon’s cock was making you feel. It reached places you never thought existed, that was at least never found by your exes.

“The beautiful sight that you are,” the officer mumbled, his hands caressing your back down to your ass, down your hips to your pussy. His mouth rested against the shell of your ear, gently nibbling on your lobe, whispering soft words of praise at how well you were taking his cock.

He smirked at how you clenched around him, the hand that was still between your legs coming up to your mouth, forcing it open. You welcomed his fingers with a hum, your tongue rolling around them to taste yourself.

“You’re such a pretty, obedient slut, you know that?” he kissed your cheek as he picked up the pace, your moans muffled by his slender fingers still pressing down your tongue. You looked over your shoulder with pleading eyes, the slight gloss over them warning the officer that you were close, again.

“Don’t worry, darling,” the officer whispered, his hips colliding with your ass at a steady pace, “I’m going to make you cum again soon, just be patient, okay? I’m almost there,” his breath was heavy, his thumb caressing your cheek as you docilely nodded at his words.

Eventually removing his fingers from your mouth, you yelped in pleasure as his wet fingers pinched your nipples, sending jolts of electricity down your body to your core.

“Please, Captain, I’m so close, I need it. So badly,” you begged, getting tired and so sensitive that one sharp movement could make you topple over the edge.

Juyeon stilled inside you, taking the time to gather your hair in one of his hands and kiss you on the lips. Your head dropped and you moaned as you felt him push himself desperately deeper inside you, your ass and his hip bone forming one, his cock thickening with lust.

Without a warning, the hand in your hair tightened, making your head tilt back up and groan, his hips colliding hard and fast with your ass, the flesh giggling at every movement.

Drunk in pleasure, Juyeon’s chest was pressed against your back, primal movements not faltering a second. His moans were erratic, grunts all over the place as the sound of skin slapping filled the police car.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna- Oh fuck!” that’s all you managed to say before your body went totally limp, legs shaking as your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, a hand wrapped around his wrist as your core was almost pushing him out of you.

“That’s it, pretty girl, that’s it. Come around my cock,” he helped you ride your orgasm by toying with your clit, mouth praising you between covering your shoulder blades with hot kisses.

Your pussy tightening made Juyeon’s cock super sensitive, precum slowly filling the condom. He was not going to last long, he just needed a bit more of you to get there.

“Can you handle a bit more, baby? I’m almost there,” he whispered, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as if he hadn’t just given you the best orgasm you’ve had in ages. Turning around to face him, you spread your trembling legs wide open for him, taking his cock in your hand to stuff it back inside you.

“I take that as a yes,” Juyeon smirked and you hummed, barely catching your breath as his hips were already ramming back inside you.

Resting his forehead against yours, Juyeon’s movements started to falter, his brown eyes blown out with lust. The way your face contorted in pleasure and your legs shaking in sensitivity were helping him get closer to his peak, loving that you were drowning in lust thanks to him.

Your hand flew to his hair and started tugging on some strands as he picked up the pace. Legs crossing in his lower back, caging him in an embrace, a low grunt of your name erupted from the police officer’s mouth, his hips stilling a second later.

“Oh my god, Y/N, fuck!” You gasped as his cum filled the condom, Juyeon rutting his hips against yours as he rode his orgasm, low groans escaping from his lips.

Your moans and your nails digging into his shoulders made him groan in lust and ride his high, soon resting his weight on you, your sweaty bodies heaving up and down in sync.

Slowly coming back to your senses, Juyeon partially removed himself from you, pulling away from your core. He smiled at you, softly kissing your lips before quickly sucking on your breast. You shivered, almost getting turned on again at the sight of the filled-up condom.

Helping each other to get dressed, it was hard for you to stand on your heels. Juyeon had turned your legs into jelly, and you could barely walk the distance that separated your car from the police cruiser.

“Are you going to be okay to get home safely?” Juyeon looked at you with a veil of worry in his eyes. You smiled, carefully walking up to him to press your lips against his.

“I will,” you smirked, your hand removing non-existent dust on his uniform just for the physical contact to linger one more second. You were already exhausted because of your day at work, those moments with him didn’t help you feel energized at all.

“Be careful on the road. I wouldn’t want the next time I see you be at the hospital,” you smiled as his hands were gently stroking your sore hips.

“That wouldn’t be a great idea, indeed,” you teased, your mouth kissing his neck. He closed his eyes for a moment, getting lost again in the sensation of your mouth on him.

“What about a date, instead?” he suggested, changing the subject as he was close to ripping your clothes from your body, just to feel your core squeeze around his cock one more time.

You smirked at his words, making you take a step back at him.

“I’d love that, Captain.” you teased as you stuffed something inside the back pocket of his pants before carefully walking to your car.

Frowning, he reached for his pants and scoffed at the lacey lingerie between his fingers, his boxers feeling restrictive, again.

As you drove off back home, Juyeon did the same, your panties in his hand. He smirked as he noticed the dry stains of your wetness he caused by kissing you.

He couldn’t wait to make you scream his name again. For now, he’d have to use his imagination.

And your panties.

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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months ago

Text

the cool down (e.m.)

request: from the lovely @mrsjellymunson: Please may I have a 🍋 (with 🍓 elements if there’s room) with Eddie Munson (friends-to-lovers, or established relationship, or your choice of other) in a super-hot, uncomfortable van on a really hot day (or day into evening), where he and reader have to come up with ever-more-daring/inventive ways to cool down/off, and maybe they end up next to, or in, Lover’s Lake?? I’m thinking cool cans of drink/beer, water sprays, fans, wet clothing…

a/n: okay this definitely took on a mind of its own and i just realized i did not have any water sprays or fans or wet clothing, but i did have eddie come up with a sort of unique way to cool us down <3 i hope you still enjoy this, kittie!! <3 <3 (also, if you squint, reader is alluded to having a chronic illness that causes extreme weather conditions to affect them. and i mean, you really have to squint. it's just very very vague since i got lost in the sauce of smut).

warnings: smut, oral f receiving, reader is afab, allusion to oral m receiving at the end, temperature play (ice). minors dni.

wc: 3.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

First, it had been to go driving around to get your minds off the heat.

And it had worked. Eddie’s van was certainly not any cooler than the trailer had been, but something about riding around the town aimlessly with all the windows down did get your mind off the unbearable heatwave. Something about Eddie, singing along purposefully off-key to his favorite songs, his hand resting lightly on your thigh as you laughed at him, made it all a little less terrible. His genius plan had worked – for the first hour.

Then, it had been to go to the gas station and get slushies.

An even better plan than his original one, honestly. You’d gone from staring at his dash while the van stalled at a red light, desperately trying to focus on anything but that creeping sickness at the edges of your mind, when he’d brought it up. One moment, your stomach is dropping as you feel that familiar light-headedness. The next, your en-route for a cherry slushy, on your doting boyfriend’s dime.

You win some, you lose some.

The losing being the terrible affect the heat currently had on you now that you were laying out in the back of Eddie’s van now, parked at Lover’s Lake, the water doing nothing to cool the smothering breeze enveloping you two.

“So, did you bring me all the way out here to kill me, or just stare at the lake all night?” you ask after taking another sip of the tart frozen treat currently cooling both your mouth and palms. It’s melting fast, the plastic cup holding it never standing a chance against your body heat mingling with the summer air.

Eddie had insisted upon coming straight to the lake after the gas station. Urging you to walk back to the van faster as he’d held a cup in each hand; one blue raspberry slushy, and one mystery styrofoam cup he refused to admit just what it contained.

As Eddie speaks, you can see his purple stained tongue, “Who says I’m gonna kill ya?”

“All the movies,” you drawl, stretching your legs out in front of you, the soles of your sandals not even reaching the edge of the van. The thrown-open doors sway ever so slightly in the wind, “Why else would you bring me here, so far away from civilization?”

“So no one could hear you.”

You can’t help the laugh that immediately slips out. You nearly choke on your straw you’d lifted back up to your lips, side-eyeing him through a few wild coughs.

“Excuse me?”

He clearly hadn’t processed what he’d just said, because his eyes go wide as he attempts to backtrack, “Wait, wait, wait! No! I just- I didn’t mean-” he pauses and sighs, leaning his head back to wipe a frustrated palm over his face, “Oh my God, sweetheart, I’m not going to kill you. I didn’t mean it in a murderer way – I meant it in a horny way.”

The horny comment nearly goes entirely over your head, “You’re not going to kill me? That’s something a murderer would say- wait, did you just say you meant it in a horny way?”

You both stare at each other for a short while, matching blown out pupils and chests rising in sync as you both suck in impossible bursts of parching oxygen only to blow them out in rapid successions.

“I did,” he finally breathes out, timidly reaching behind him, revealing that styrofoam cup once more.

Not even a drop of sweat on it yet. It’s holding up tremendously better than your slushies had.

“What’s in the cup?”

You’re feeling bold, ignoring the pooling perspiration at the nape of your neck as you scoot yourself a bit closer, fighting a smile.

“Well, I know the heat bothers you a lot…”

“Right.”

“And I was trying to think of ways to cool you down…”

“Of course.”

“But also just take your mind off of it, in general.”

“That all sounds great, Eddie,” you lean forward, slushy cup pressing into your kneecap as you reach forward for the mystery cup. Eddie is quick to fling his arm up, keeping it far out of your reach, “But what’s in that damn cup?”

Instead of answering right away, he grins slowly, wiggling his eyebrows comically until you roll your eyes at him.

“Fine, keep your secr-”

“Lay back for me, baby.”

He purrs out the command, the sweet nickname a cherry on top.

In a blink of an eye, your joking boyfriend has vanished, someone more confident and commanding in his place. A sight to see, really. There’s only a few times you’re awarded the sight: when Eddie is navigating you through crowded bars with a steady hand pressed to your lower back, when Eddie is hosting his weekly DnD nights that you’ve earned a lifetime invite to, when Eddie is on a stage and entirely within his element as his first sweetheart hangs from his shoulders.

And whenever he has you like this, already compliant and doe-eyed, a toying smile tugging at your lips as you follow through with his demands.

It’s a welcome switch, a welcome presence.

“Good girl,” he awards you softly, and you have to choke back a giggle.

He was just a stuttering mess, defending himself like a clumsy fool. An adorable dork pulling at your heart strings. And now, he’s a vision of assuredness. Of determination.

It’s hot. It’s great. It’s enough to get your mind off the dwindling summer heat that rises around the lake’s perimeter.

“So,” he continues, popping the lid off the cup finally. There’s not a sign of liquid nearing the rim of the cup where you can see, and your face twists in a bit of confusion, “Here’s what’s going to happen – here I have a wonderfully not melted cup of ice,” he tilts it, and you can finally see the pebbled ice cubes. Suddenly, the entire situation has become significantly less funny, “And you’re clearly in need of a cool down. See where I’m going with this, sweetheart?”

You do. But it’s more fun to play dumb.

“I don’t think I do,” you sigh out, stretching so that your tank top rises and exposes your midriff, “Might need a demonstration.”

It’s a vibrant green light for him – he’s quick to set the cup aside and focus all his efforts on undressing you. Hands that are still shaking – because it’s Eddie and his hands will always shake when it comes to you – and eager fingers tracing lines over your hips before he fiddles with the button of your jean shorts. Taking his time with each caress, murmuring words that strike flames within the pit of your stomach, a more welcome internal warmth than what the summer offers.

He pauses once the shirt and shorts have been discarded, and you almost think for a moment, he might begin to pepper soft kisses across your exposed skin.

He doesn’t.

He grabs the styrofoam cup once more instead, keeping eye contact with you as he pulls an ice cube out. Before he formally places it between his lips, he pauses, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes as he instructs, “Think you can stay still for me, baby?”

Funny how easy it is to turn to stone until someone requests it of you.

The ice cube is slotted between his lips, pretty and pink as they wrap around the salvation that quickly starts to melt. A drip of water is already running down his chin by the time he’s leaning down over your body, not yet touching your spasming abdomen, just hovering as he watches the way your body fights against his instruction.

No words are needed – even if he could speak with the ice in his mouth – as his eyes flick up to yours. Arson umber pupils that command you silently.

Stay still, they whisper. And you try to – you really, really try to.

The first drop of cold water hits your skin as it shakes from restraint, from stuttering breaths, from anticipation. He’s teasing you; he’s taking his time as he grows closer and closer to properly pressing the cube and his lips against you. You swear, for just a moment, this entire grand idea was doing the opposite of its purpose. Heat was radiating off of you in waves, with no plans of cooling down any time soon.

And then his lips are on your skin.

Sweet relief, chills racing down the spine, a sigh slipping past your lips as your back arches desperately. He’s pinpointed the exact center between your hips, just below your navel, with everything you’ve begun to crave. Lips losing their heat with every passing second and the tip of the cube trail around in a lazy circle as he keeps looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, corners of his mouth twitching with the temptation of a smile when your fingers tangle in the roots of his hair. You have half the mind to completely undo his already ruined bun – you have half the mind to guide him to exactly where you need him most.

“Fuck,” you gasp out, voice barely a hiccup over the cicadas. It feels nice, it feels good.

The stifle of the van’s air is all but forgotten as he just keeps trailing the ice along your skin, letting it slowly melt until there’s nothing left but the remnants of a chill on his tongue and lips. And he takes those frozen lips, quickly putting them to use as he lets them drag along a pathway to your left hip. No rush. You’ve both got all the time in the world as he presses a hard kiss to that hip, lips pursing and sucking a bit before he shifts to make his way to the right one instead.

Teasing, taunting, relieving.

By the time he’s made it to the other hip, the heat has begun to creep back up.

“You look real pretty like this, you know?” he asks you, hand shooting out blindly to get another ice cube, “Just laying here for me, sighing all cutely and shit,” your fingers tighten in his hair, “Oh, do you like that, baby? Like me calling it how I see it?”

It’s in his confident tone. The buzz shooting straight through your brain that drowns out the sounds of summer when he talks to you like this. Every syllable has you preening for more of his affection, his attention, his approval.

You’re finally dizzy with want and need rather than summertime sickness.

“You’re a fucking vision,” his breath is hot against you as he says it, waiting for just a moment before he lifts up and yanks his shirt off with boyish charm. When he settles back between your legs, he makes a point to lay the backs of your bare thighs against his naked shoulders, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin, “I would do anything for you. Fucking anything. Say the word, and it’s yours.”

Right as he places another ice cube in his mouth, dropping cool fingertips that are wet with condensation to trail from the peak of your knee and down, you take him at his word.

You say the word.

“Kiss me,” you beg.

“Where?”

Not a taunt. Just a clarification. The game is up, and you both know it.

“There.”

“We’re not teenagers,” he snorts, voice a bit garbled as he passes the ice from cheek to cheek, “Use your big girl words.”

This time, your hand is his hair does remove the bun entirely, hairtie lost somewhere recklessly to be found later as thick curls wrap around your fist. “Jesus Christ, I want you to kiss me on my fucking pussy, Eddie. Is that what you want to hear? Quit teasing and-”

“Your pussy?” he interrupts, eyes darkening ever so slightly, tsking slightly, “No, no. That won’t do. Because from what I can see, this pussy is mine, sweetheart. She’s purring for me right now, dripping like these damn ice cubes-”

“Then kiss me on your damn pussy.”

Another ice cube is slotted between his lips, one you hadn’t noticed him grabbing, and he does exactly as he’s told.

The cold shocks you initially, nearly making your hips jump away from his touch entirely. But you can’t as his forearm comes over to rest across the hips he’d just worshiped, other hand tightly gripping onto the flesh of any thigh he can grab onto, pulling you tighter and closer to him.

The same circles he had just trailed beneath your navel return in a new location, skimming your clit now.

“Oh my God,” you whine, shoulder blades digging into the uncomfortable surface of the van’s floor below the makeshift padding of blankets, “Please, please.”

He doesn’t tease you and ask you to spell out what you’re imploring of him this time. What small bit of the ice was left in his mouth slips out, slowly trailing down, down, down. Lighting a path of incessant mercy along its way as it skirts around your clit, ending up nearly slipping inside of you as it slows at your entrance.

A cold, freezing trail of water left behind, and Eddie’s hot tongue is quick to follow it in reverse.

He deliberately keeps it flat, avoiding filling you where you want it most.

He’s still taking his time, moving slower than the cube has as he laps at your folds steadily. One long stride, and you’re squirming. The contrast between the heat of his mouth and the chill that the ice had left behind sends you whirling, stomach clenching as you let out more little gasps.

It only eggs him on.

He flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue to finish his path, moving back only to take a sharp breath of his own before his lips wrap around it and suck.

The steady rhythm of suction elicits countless moans from you, all trailing off into desperate whispers, both hands fully buried in Eddie’s curls as he has to fight harder to keep your hips pressed down. Praises of his name, pants of keep going. Your vision blurs in a way that doesn’t send panic through your bones, and you welcome the tunnel vision as he lets go of his grip around your thigh to press his fingertips against your entrance.

He mumbles something, a reverberating hum that has you clenching around nothing, but he’s not willful enough to take his mouth off you long enough to properly enunciate.

“What - ah - what was that?” you breathe out, hardly able to get the words out around your pants as you feel that pressure building between your hips, desperate for release.

Willpower in overdrive, he pulls himself away from being buried against you, “I said, I want you to come for me, sweetheart.”

To emphasize his point, he plunges in two fingers, curling them in a petting motion that spells out your demise.

Your body reacts to the words before your brain can catch up. That pressure, the ever growing knot building, building, building – it snaps within a second of his lips finding your clit again.

His fingers, knuckle deep in your cunt. His nose, buried in your bush. The cold, still lingering with a vengeance against the odds.

The sensory overload does you in. You feel weightless, unaware of just how hard you’re tugging on his curls or the slight rhythm he’s built with his own hips against the blankets below. The high rushes over you, drowning out everything in its path and wrapping you up just as the summer warmth had previously. And he’s relentless, carrying you through every wave, never once faltering.

You understand what he’d said earlier – you’re glad no one can hear you at this moment as you throw away any false God and only say prayers in Eddie’s name.

White vision fades to black, and your entire body goes slack as your eyes flutter shut in exhaustion. The sweat covering your body almost offers some relief as a breeze wiggles its way through the van’s back doors.

He crawls back up your body slowly, coming home to the space you allot him as you further spread your trembling thighs and he peppers the lightest of sincere kisses up your ribcage. Warm lips you feel drawing roadways until he’s finally lining them up your neck, your cheeks, your own hot lips.

“Still with me?”

You only hum in response, hand feeling blindly to lightly caress his bare back.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, breath fanning out against your temple as he places a last few kisses, just because.

When you finally force your heavy lids back open, you’re welcomed to the sight of whiskey eyes and a soft nose, shining for a reason only the two of you know. You swear, you can’t decipher if the pink smattering across his cheeks and bridge of his nose is from the heat, or from a proper blush at the sight of you.

It makes your insides melt more than any hot summer day.

“It worked,” is all you laugh out, pads of your fingers still pressing softly into the smooth skin of his shoulder blades, a weak attempt to bring him closer.

“It worked?”

“You took my mind off the heat.”

His lashes might be fluttering even more than your own, hips lowering against yours, heavy and bated as you come back down to Earth. You swear he’s never been prettier than he is right now, with you all over his mouth and bangs sticking to his forehead from the sweat.

You almost card your fingers through them, expose the spanse of skin beneath just to offer the softest of kisses in return to him. Almost.

“Good,” he grins with a boyish mirth, looking overly accomplished, “Did you ever even doubt me?”

“Maybe.”

Your teasing tone has him poking out a tongue that’s a few shades lighter of purple than before, him finally rolling his body off of the top of yours.

“I’ll give you a minute,” he jokes, throwing his head back as your eyes follow. You can see a bead of sweat making its way down his cheekbone, slipping away into his hairline, “And then I’ll fuck that doubt away.”

Your stomach flutters as your eyes wander, taking in his exposed neck, following the creases in his skin down his chest. The way his stomach shakes a little with each breath, and the way you zero in on each quiver of that dark line of hair starting at his navel and disappearing into the band of his pants.

The very obvious, very strained bulge within his pants.

Suddenly, an idea comes to mind.

You sit up a bit faster than is smart, and you ignore the stars in your vision as you quickly situate yourself to perch by his hip. He starts to lift himself back up, hands already flying out to keep you steady, but you only swat them away as you lean over him to grab an ice cube out of the styrofoam cup.

“I think I’ll need more than a minute,” you lie, pressing him back down fully, movements full of determination as he watches you with hooded eyes, “How about for now, I give you a taste of your own medicine, pretty boy?”

The ice is slotted between your own lips, and the whine Eddie lets out is answer enough.

#summertime sweetness #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #there's several lines in here that i went 'wait is that cringe?' but... we persevere?#not really edited but that should be expected of me at this point waaah #gonna make my mouth colder than the arctic than suck his soul out of his body no big deal

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mountainsandmayhem · 10 months ago

Text

Stay Still, Little Dove

Joel Miller x Female!Reader

18+

Series Masterlist

Summary: Joel takes matters into his own hands to deal with your newly insatiable sex drive with a little help from a u shaped friend. TW: softdom!Joel, female orgasms (like a lot of them), oral (fem!rec), this is all about her A/N: THANK YOU for all the comments, likes and reblogs on my last story! I fully believe only 1 or 2 people will read these and I'm just floored by the response so far. I wish I could write without a plot, but I added some backstory about these two. Word Count: 4.3k

Ellie has always been a tornado in your life. Her biological mom was your childhood best friend. She had her demons, so you can’t say you were surprised when during her weekend trip to visit you with her new baby she disappeared, leaving you with little Ellie.

Overnight, you went from a 22-year-old young woman starting your third year of your degree to a 22-year-old adoptive single mom pushing through your third year of college.

Your parents were helpful, driving four hours from the small town you grew up in every weekend so you could work or do homework. They offered to take Ellie for a while or help you find people to adopt her, but that little tornado of a girl was your priority and you weren’t going to abandon her like her mother.

She broke her arm at 2 on her big wheel, and at 3 she needed 10 stitches across her eyebrow from when she tried to leap from the kitchen table to the granite island. Safe to say the granite won as she still bears that scar today. At 4, she bolted up the stairs to the high dive and jumped off without an ounce of fear. Thank god she was already a strong swimmer.

She seemed to crave chaos, so when she befriended the girl with wildly curly hair on her first day of school you just shook your head, predictable little tornado.

Thankfully Sarah Miller was a sweet and kind-hearted girl, maybe even a little shy. It also helped that Sarah’s young dad, who didn’t wear a wedding ring, resembled a Greek god. Tall and broad with tanned skin, he owned some sort of contracting business based on the truck he’d do school pick up and drop off in. When the girls introduced you two, he flashed you a small smile, revealing that goddamn dimple.

You’re both pretty sure the girls played a hand in the two of you eventually getting together, granted they both conveniently don’t remember playing tiny matchmakers. They’d ask for sleepovers and playdates almost daily, or sign you both up to the same shift at school events.

“Mommy, I swear on the moon that the teacher picked!” Ellie said when you had the coat check station at the Valentine's Day dance. “Buuuut you might want to put on lipstick.”

It’s been a little over 14 years since then and he still sets your blood on fire with that dimple.

Both of you approached this new empty nest phase apprehensively, but it turns out that having the house to yourself (with no risk of one of the girls walking in) opened a whole new set of rather kinky doors. Not that you were necessarily vanilla before, but while they lived there you didn’t have ropes and paddles hanging on your bedroom wall, or the hooks on your four-poster bed.

You also never would have been how you are now, bathroom door wide open in only the trousers you planned to wear to work.

“Not that I’m complainin’ sweetheart. But why are you topless?” Joel asks on his way to the kitchen.

“It’s too damn hot in here.” You grumble, getting out your skincare and makeup.

Joel shook his head to himself as he walked to the kitchen. He knew better than to bring up that it wasn’t the temperature, it was you and your recent perimenopause diagnosis. He hated to see you suffering, but your newly insatiable libido gave him an idea.

As you get ready, Joel leans against the bathroom door frame drinking coffee, observing you through the mirror.

You see him most days in his typical work attire - dark jeans, a t-shirt with his company logo, and a flannel or denim button-up. But it will never get old to you. You almost find him sexier in this than in a suit. Especially when he has the cuffs rolled like he does today.

“Little Dove?” His voice is deep and scratchy.

A slight blush paints your cheeks, knowing that it’s going to be one of those days.

“Yes, sir?”

He slowly walks towards you as you lean into the mirror to blink on some mascara. He stops just a hair away from you, not touching you but close. Close enough for you to feel the heat coming off of him. He waits until you’ve put the mascara wand away, and uses his free hand to trace a line slowly down your spine.

A shiver runs through you, and you let out a small moan. Partly from the feeling of him, but mostly at the reprieve from the hot flash you’re experiencing.

“How many orgasms do you think I could give you before you beg me to stop?” He kisses the top of your left shoulder, watching your eyes widen slightly in the mirror.

Goosebumps spread across your body. If he wants to play, you’ll make it difficult for him. “Well, after the little kidnapping the other night you gave in after three.”

“This is about you giving up and not me giving in,” His free hand continues a light trail along your bare back.

“And didn’t you say you felt like you had done an intense Pilates workout the next day?” He adds teasingly.

You were hoping he’d forgotten about how you groaned as you lowered yourself into the bathtub to soak your sore muscles. Even though your hormones seemed to think you were a teenager again, your body took a little longer to recover. Joel cared for you in a way that only he could; making dinner, wrapping you in your beloved heated blanket, and gently massaging your hips and legs.

You don’t want to give up this easily so you scoff and say, “Please, old man. You’d get tired before I’d quit.”

The next two things happen so quickly that it’s over before the excited squeal leaves your lips. He spins you to face him and lifts you onto the countertop, caging you between his arms, his hands gripping the vanity on either side of you.

“Now now, Little Dove. I’d be careful who you call old.” His recently playful tone is back to a deep gravel-like command that settles right between your thighs.

“You will refer to me as sir in these moments and nothing else. Do you understand?”

You nod eagerly sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, fuck you love him like this.

He kisses down your neck towards your right breast. Pausing he adds, “Words, Little Dove,” before gently dragging your right nipple through his teeth.

You let out a desperate moan arching your back into the pain, “Yes, sir.”

Joel quickly steps back, taking his coffee cup with him. “Be a good girl today.”

+++++

You spend your workday trying not to think about Joel. You immerse yourself in your to-do list and your team gets a few projects done early and sent off for approval. You’ve almost forgotten about the morning events when you hear your phone buzz.

Joel: When I get home I want you in that little black lacy thing, Little Dove. I’m bringing home dinner.

You reply with a funny ‘yes, sir’ gif.

Joel: Oh, my sweet Little Dove. I’m almost starting to think you like it when I punish you.

You: Do your worst, I won’t tap out.

Joel: Tell me what you’re going to be doing when I get home.

You find a photo of you wearing the aforementioned ‘little black lacy thing’ and attach it to your message that says, “Wearing this, sir.”

Joel: Be kneeling beside the couch when I get home.

You: Yes, sir.

++++

The rest of your day goes by tortuously slowly, yet the drive home seemed suspiciously fast. You laugh to yourself picturing a speeding ticket in the mail and Joel’s reaction when you tell him he has to pay it since it’s his fault. Maybe you’ll ask him when he’s in a sir mood.

You hop in the shower, shave and touch up your makeup before clipping and clasping yourself into the outfit Joel loves so much. As you step back to admire yourself in the full-length mirror you realize certain squishy parts of your body don’t look great in this.

Focus on the positive, you remind yourself.

The deep v-halter of the one-piece garment accentuates your breasts, you spin to take in the low cut back and high cut cheeky bottom that highlights the globes of your ass.

The familiar sounds of Joel’s truck pulling up the driveway sends a rush of nervous and excited butterflies through your stomach. You hurry to the sitting room, grab a throw pillow from the couch and kneel.

Your eyes follow as Joel heads to the kitchen, holding a bag from your favourite sushi restaurant. He places it on the island before looking up at you with dark eyes

“Look at the ground and put your hands on your lap.” He commands.

You can’t stop your eyes from rolling as you look down and do as he says.

“Little Dove, don’t roll your eyes at me.” His voice deepens with every word, instantly setting your core on fire.

He’s silent for a moment and you can feel his eyes on you. “From now on when I say to kneel, this is how you’ll be. Understand?”

You squeeze your thighs a little tighter, breathing starting to shallow at the sound of his voice as he slips deeper into sir mode.

You reply with a breathy, “Yes sir. Sorry.”

Joel walks over and pets your head. “You look stunning like this.” He whispers, before turning and leaving you alone.

His words feel like warm honey being drizzled down your spine. No one makes you feel as desired as Joel and immediately your earlier body insecurities vanish. You can hear him moving things around the bedroom before he walks back to the kitchen but you don’t dare look up. You’re a good girl, Joel doesn’t like brats, and right now all that matters is pleasing him.

Joel sets up dinner, arranges the sushi on plates, opens the wine and lights a candle before sitting at the table, legs spread, facing you.

“Crawl to me, Little Dove.” His deep voice washes over you. Almost as if it puts you in a trance. You know your knees are going to regret this in the morning, but you’re so turned on that you don’t hesitate to crawl across the area rug and then onto the hardwood flooring Joel installed himself.

Stopping between his bare legs, his strong hand cradles your chin and tilts it up, he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and tight black boxers. But it’s the sleek black remote control vibrator in his other hand that steals your attention.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He says with a soft moan, gently stroking your cheek. “Go put this in, and then come back and have dinner with me.”

He helps you to your feet and hands you the vibrator. He turns you towards the half bath off the kitchen and pats your bum gently while you walk away.

Joel has laid out everything you might need on the counter. After cleaning the toy, you push the thin fabric of your lingerie aside and slide it inside yourself. You can already feel pressure on that little spongy part inside you that Joel loves to tease. As you wash your hands you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

I can do this, you say to yourself.

As soon as you step out of the bathroom and make eye contact with Joel the toy comes to life. Your false confidence from a few seconds ago buckles along with your knees as you brace yourself on the door frame and let out a breathy gasp.

“I want you to keep count and thank me for each one, Little Dove. Understand?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you moan, crossing your legs and squeezing your thighs, all while maintaining eye contact.

The vibration stops, you take a few deep breaths before standing up tall and walking over to the table. Always the gentleman, he pulls out your chair and kisses the top of your head before taking his seat.

“Eat while we go over some ground rules, Little Dove.”

You don’t have to be told twice, you love sushi and you’re probably going to need your strength for the evening.

“You are going to need a safe word tonight.” Your mouth goes dry and you become accurately aware of the small remote control in his possession.

“We are going to use a colour coding system, much like traffic lights. If I ask you for a colour tonight you have three options. Green means you want to keep going,” he emphasizes the word you.

“Yellow means you need a break and will let me know when you’re ready again. Say red and we stop.” Joel pauses and looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, sir,” you reply in between bites.

He picks up his wine and takes a sip before continuing softly, reaching across to grab your hand. “But baby, you can say yellow or red at any time. If you need a break or reassurance, say yellow. And if it’s too intense and you need me to stop, say red. We’ve done our research on this. But you need to know that if you say stop, or that you need a break, or even if you’re crying and saying I’m hurting you, I will not stop. Colours only. Understand?”

You nod while taking a big mouthful of wine, the nervous excitement that you’ve been feeling all day courses through your body. As your wine glass is put back on the table the vibrating starts again, stronger this time.

“You should know by now that you need to use your fucking words, Little Dove.” He says darkly.

“Yes,” you stammer. “Yes. I under….I understand, sir.”

The vibrating stops and you let out a breathy, Oh god.

You both eat your dinner and finish the wine, this man could give you whiplash with how quickly he can go from sir to family man. He asks about your day and tells you about the new apprentice he’s hired. When you both finish eating he takes the dishes to the sink. He turns to face you, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. The sleeves of his t-shirt stretch over the ropes of muscles lining his biceps.

“Little Dove, do I have your consent to make you come until you use a safe word?”

Again, the whiplash.

Your mouth goes dry as you reply with his preferred ‘yes, sir.’

The toy comes to life again, on a higher setting than the last 2 times. You lean forward so your ass is slightly off the chair to ease some of the intensity. You’re not a stranger to a vibrator, but never one that’s pushed this firmly against your g spot and your clit. The seat of your chair is clamped between your fingers as you cry out in pleasure.

“Don’t make me tie you to that fucking chair. Sit down, Little Dove.”

You do as he says, letting out a desperate moan as the hard seat presses the two ends of the u shaped toy deeper and harder against your g spot.

“Oh fuck - fuck - m’gonna…” you close your eyes and your head falls back as the white heat in your center starts to reach its breaking point.

Joel strides over to you and grabs your chin, twisting you slightly to face him. “Look at me, I want to see it when you come.”

“J-Joel,” his hand doesn’t leave your chin and he watches you with such admiration as you start to come undone.

“That’s it, Little Dove,” he whispers as he places a few kisses along your jaw towards your ear adding, “Let go for me.”

Your orgasm hits you hard, spreading from the base of your spine and out to every inch of your body. Wave after wave flows through you, intensified by the look of admiration spreading across Joel's face.

“There you go - good girl.”

Your fingers start to ache as you fight to stay seated in the chair, his wishes are your command and you’ll do anything to hear him praise you again. You squirm against the seat as overstimulation starts to take over.

“Please, sir,” you beg, “fuck! I need…I need to move.”

“So beautiful when you beg, Little Dove….count it for me” He says.

“One sir, thank you.” It comes out weak and breathy, a voice you didn’t expect after only one orgasm.

“Give me a colour, baby.” His voice is almost soothing as he torments you with the vibrator.

Current state aside, you’re not giving up or giving in after one orgasm, even if it is still coursing through you minutes later.

“Green!” You scream, shifting yourself off the chair slightly as he switches to a new vibration setting. Its intensity varies and shifts, and the anticipation of never knowing what might hit you next is a new level of wonderful torture.

Joel slides your chair out and kneels in front of you, pushing your hips back down to the chair.

“I will tie you down if you don’t stay still, Little Dove,” he growls before slamming his lips into yours.

A second orgasm tears through your body, your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you try not to move. It’s no use, the vibrations are too intense and you buck your hips up while your head falls back breaking the kiss.

The kitchen fills with your cries of ecstasy. Somehow you manage to count and thank him for the second one before he turns off the toy and pulls you to your feet. You grip his strong forearms to steady yourself, your pussy still fluttering against the weight of the vibrator.

“You have five seconds before I turn this on high, Little Dove. Unless you can make it to the bedroom before that.”

Your legs feel like jelly beneath you, but your competitive side kicks in and you sprint down the hallway as he loudly and authoritatively counts to five. You almost make it through the bedroom when you feel the most intense vibration hit your swollen g spot. You stumble forward, folding your upper body onto the bed. Your brain scrambles to catch up to your body as it processes that you’re not in pain but instead in a state of agonizing pleasure.

Joel walks up behind you, pressing himself against your ass. “You’re doing such a good job for me,” he praises before landing a hard slap on your right ass cheek.

Your body is suspended in that moment right before you come. You almost feel like you’re floating and the pleasure is so intense that you can’t even make a noise as you clench the bedsheet in your fists to try to ground yourself.

He uses his body to pin you down, folding over you and whispering “Give me a colour,” in your ear.

“Green” comes out in a shaky whisper.

“That’s my girl.” He says proudly, biting your shoulder blade.

Again it’s his words that do it, my girl, and you finally tip over the edge and tremble underneath him. Joel kisses and sucks the skin of your upper back, every inch of your body feels encompassed by him and crying out for relief, but you’re not giving in.

“Ah - fuuuuck…” you feel like this orgasm has been going on for hours.

“I wish you could see how good you look right now.”

“Stop. P-please. Stop,” you beg in between gasps of air.

As you come down from your high the vibrating slows to a small tickle, not enough to make you come again but enough to remind you that it’s there.

Can someone die from an orgasm?

“Take off your clothes,” Joel growls in your ear, slapping your right ass cheek as he peels himself off of you. “I’m not stopping until you use the safe word, Little Dove.”

He pulls his shirt off and watches as you undo the clasps and clips of your lingerie and slide it off with shaky hands.

As you lay on the bed you say, “I’m not a fucking quitter, sir.”

Joel smirks, laughing through his nose a little as he wraps a silk cuff around each ankle, spreading your legs apart for him. “How many are we at so far?”

As he cuffs your wrists you reply. “Three. Thank you, sir.”

He kisses your forehead as he slowly removes the vibrator. “Fuck me,” he says, “look at this mess, such a good girl for me.”

You close your eyes and let the praise wash over you like a warm bath. Joel shifts his body between your legs and places two little kisses on your swollen clit making you whimper and suck your bottom lip between your teeth.

He uses two fingers to lightly circle your clit making you come instantly with a whimpering ‘four, thank you, sir,’ at the end.

Joel doesn’t stop, switching to use his tongue while keeping the same pace and pressure as you come again.

“Ah - five, thank you, sir!”

….and again….”fuck, six. Thank you, sir.”

...and again….”s-seven - oh god - thank y-you, sir.”

Your skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat as a cool liquid drizzles down your pussy. You gasp at the new sensation, eyes shooting to his face.

“Stay still, Little Dove.”

As he runs his fingers up and down your pussy, the lube turns warm and tingly, heightening his touches. Joel draws circles on your clit with his thumb, pursing his lips and blowing cool air. The warmth turns icy cold, and when he stops blowing, heat rushes to your pussy, pulling another orgasm from you.

Yes, I’m certain someone can die from an orgasm.

“Count, Little Dove.”

A whine escapes your lips as you try to tug your legs together. His thumb has slowed down but it’s all becoming too much. “Eight. I can’t anymore, sir.”

He blows cool air again and the heat rushing has you keening all over again.

“Please, Joel. I can’t. Please.” Tears spring from your eyes.

“You’re ok. You can do this, baby.” Cool air hits your pussy again and you come apart. “Good girl. So gorgeous. Count it for me, Little Dove.”

“Nine. N-nine,” your eyes slam shut as he pulls away from you. “T-thank you, sir.”

Before you’ve even finished thanking him, he slides his middle finger inside you, lightly massaging your g spot that’s still so sensitive from the vibrator. He pushes one of his strong hands down on your mound as he torturously works you toward your tenth orgasm.

“No…please. Sir, I,” you gasp as you try to pull free.

“I can’t,” the pleasure is almost painful at this point as the pressure from your arousal builds. He knows your close, he’s been dying to make you squirt again after the other night.

“Color,” Joel says tenderly, slipping a second finger inside you and hooking the forward.

You swallow hard against your sore and scratchy throat. You whine ‘green’, as you arch your back to try to ease the intense mixture of pain, pleasure and pressure that you’re experiencing.

“Stay still, Little Dove,” Joel pushes harder on your lower belly. “Give me number ten. Show me, baby. Show me how good this feels.”

You swear that everything stops, including your heart and time, as you fall apart under his touch and gush all over his hand. The walls of your pussy are clenching around Joel’s fingers and you can feel a puddle forming underneath you. You think you hear Joel praising you, but the sound is muffled by your gasps and moans. If you lived in an apartment your neighbours might think you were being tortured based on the loud cries coming out of you. Joel is sure that he’ll be making you a hot toddy to ease your throat later, but right now he’s hyper-focused on getting you through this orgasm.

As you start to come down his hand slows, “relax, baby.”

“Red. S-stop. Fuck Joel, red.”

Joel gently removes his fingers, shifting quickly to undo your restraints. You’re shivering and exhausted as he pulls you into his arms and away from the soaked sheets.

Everything Joel Miller does is done with the utmost care and attention, including aftercare. Your heated blanket is already warmed up, tucked near the headboard. He pulls it over you and places a featherlight kiss on your sweaty forehead.

“I got you, darlin’. Shhh. I got you.” He holds you tighter as you melt into him.

After a few moments of silence, you tilt your face up to look at him. “Are you okay?” He asks gently.

You bite your bottom lip to stop a smile. “Ya, that was - amazing.”

You laugh a little and tuck back into his chest. “Are you sure? I’m so proud of you for using a safe word, but I need to ensure I didn’t hurt you.”

You shake your head and fight to stay awake. “No…you didn’t” you mumble sleepily, stifling a yawn. “I’m great - just one minute…then I’ll do something for you.”

Joel laughs softly and tilts your face up to his. He presses his lips to yours gently. “That was for me, Little Dove. Sleep for a little bit, I’ll wake you up for electrolytes and food.”

The warmth of your blanket takes over, you whisper an ‘I love you’ just as you drift off, thanking whoever brought this beautiful man into your life.

++++++++++

Taglist: @corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @mermaidgirl30 @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut

#joel miller #pedrohub #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel tlou #fanfic #fanfiction #joel miller smut #daddy joel #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #dom!joel miller #soft!joel miller

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kenandeliza · 7 months ago

Text

a collection of ideas of a post-suspendium Golden Age comics Billy Batson if he ended up in the 21st century (pick any comic continuity

EDIT: IF YOU SEE THIS POST HAVING A WEIRD/REPEATING PARAGRAPH/FORMAT, LET ME KNOW BECAUSE TUMBLR ISNT WORKING FOR MY MOBILE

1.adoption scenario

(If a leaguer wanted to adopt Billy, he’d just show them his birth certificate)

Billy smirking:” Sorry, you can’t legally adopt a grandpa”

2. Billy teasing with a smug boomer voice: “Back in my day, we used to play with atomic machines!”

3. youtube

Billy:thanks for showing me how to use a modern phone (insert friend from 21st century)! But I wonder, where is the tv remote for changing the youtube channel? And Where is the news?

(Friend from the 21st century):*sighs* it’s so over

4. Old friends

Aside from the fawcett city heroes, Billy in this case probably relates more to the older heroes like wildcat, Alan scott or Jay Garrick, maybe they have multiple team ups in the past and would reminiscent over it (the rest having their favorite drinks while Billy preferring his hot chocolate ice cream)

5. Teasing

The younger hero teams who know his identity would teasingly call him a “boomer”, Billy wanted to protest that he technically was born before boomers but they ignored it and still teased him about it.

to the rest of the heroes who didn’t know about his identity, they assume captain marvel is more than centuries old, and thinks this is the reason the kid heroes calls him a boomer.

6. Jokes

Billy: “oh so these memes are like what replaces comic strips i used to read, how nice”

Some of these ideas are taken from the fanfics i’ve written, some just came to me inside my head, but it’s fun to think about it.

(Edited: added more scenarios)

7. Caprisuns

Caprisuns werent invented yet when Billy was in suspendium. After getting out of suspendium, He really likes caprisun.

Other leaguers would be confused, Marvel's liking of caprisun is comparable to Martian Manhunter's love of oreos. When asked about when his capri sun addiction started, Marvel shrugged, "They weren't made before I was born, so it was only recent"

The league is now confused as to how old marvel is. Wonder Woman relates to this with her fascination of ice cream flavors.

8. Billy automatically put on a Mid-atlantic accent whenever he is near a microphone due to his habit and work with Whiz station for his TV segments as well as radio programs.

Whenever Captain Marvel uses a communicator, he unintentionally uses a mid-atlantic accent (this confuses the leaguers, "who is this guy!?"). Some of the leaguers enjoyed listening to his voice

Marvel would occasionally file an audio JL report (yes, with the same mid-atlantic accent) when he's on a hurry and couldn't type it out with his typewriter (he still finds it difficult to use a computer) : "And there you have it, folks! In a nutshell, I managed to handle the There was an outbreak of imps but Mary and I already took care of it, Junior apprehend the acrobat after a terible case of Moonitis, the three of us thwarted Mr. Mind's dastardly scheme to seize control of the sun, and we all prevented Sivana from being promoted to "King of Earth" by hurling his atomic bomb straight into the heart of the sun itself! That's the latest from me, This is Captain Marvel, signing off!"

Leaguer: "Why does he sound like a radio host commenting on a football game?"

Other leaguer:*shrugs*

9. Billy watches a cgi lion movie for the first time

..and thought innocently that there are other talking tigers like tawky tawny.

Some of these ideas are taken from the fanfics i’ve written, some just came to me inside my head, but it’s fun to think about it.

#shazam #captain marvel #dc comics #billy batson #Scenarios #scenario #Billy being a boomer trapped in a kid’s body- the scenario

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fawnandshadows · 6 months ago

Text

Guilty as Sin?

For @elriel-month and the "New Beginnings" prompt

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 7.4k

AO3

“Have you met your new neighbor yet?” Cassian’s staticky voice crackled in Azriel’s ear, his phone held in place by his shoulder and ear as he furiously searched his apartment for his keys.

“Not yet, just saw the back of her head once when she was closing her door.” Azriel said as he toppled the couch cushions and ran his fingers through the deep crevice on the side. “Where the fuck are my keys?” He muttered, his fingers trailing over long forgotten crumbs that had slid down the side of the cushion. “Were you eating Doritos last time you were here?”

“Uh,” Cassian’s voice caught in his throat. “What happens if I say yes?”

Azriel rolled his eyes and said, “Nothing other than supergluing a trash bag to you as a bib next time you’re over.”

“Wasn’t me, man. Must’ve been Rhysie.” Cassian brushed him off.

Azriel barely mustered a “hmmmm” in acknowledgment as he lowered himself to the ground to check underneath the couch, hoping to see the metallic glint of his keys and only seeing dust bunnies.

“Anyway,” Cassian said in his ear, cutting out for a second before coming back in full volume. Since he had perpetual shitty service, Cassian felt the need to make up for it with shouting. “Your hot new neighbor, do you think you could give her my phone number? She was definitely making eyes at me last time I was there.”

“Was she?” Azriel asked, barely paying attention as he hunted for his keys. He pushed himself off of the floor, his gaze scanning the open space. Where the hell had he put them? He came home dead tired from a shift last night and he remembered fumbling with them out in the hall — there had been a crash from his neighbors apartment that had distracted him, his head already pounding from the drinks he had with Cassian, and he remembered the sound of his keys hitting the ground — did he leave his keys in the hall?

“Are you listening to me?” Cassian asked, his voice sounding far away as Azriel headed towards his door, his duffle bag already there and waiting for him.

“Of course,” Azriel said, opening the door and spotting his keys in a lump on the floor. “You want me to set you up with my hot neighbor.” He bent down, his fingers looping around his keys as he heard a high-pitched “Oh!” from across the hall.

Azriel’s entire body stilled as he turned his head and saw the most beautiful wide brown eyes and flushed pink cheeks.

He blinked at her. No wonder Cassian wanted him to give her his number. Fat-fucking-chance.

“Hellloo?” Cassian asked in his ear like he was trying to wave his head in front of Azriel’s face.

Azriel just hung up on him.

“Sorry about that,” Azriel said, coming to his full height and shoving his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. “I – My friend – He saw you the other day and, um, he has a crush.”

Those brown eyes blinked at him and kicking himself seemed like too kind a punishment.

He was two seconds away from blurting out “I can’t blame him” just to end the agony of silence, but his new neighbor must have had a merciful soul because she beat him to it.

“I just wanted to introduce myself,” She said in the sweetest voice Azriel had ever heard and it wasn’t until then that he noticed she was holding out a pie. “Since I’ve been making so much racket I wanted to apologize.”

“Don’t apologize,” Azriel said, his hand surprisingly steady as he reached for her peace-offering. “I’m not home enough to be bothered by it.”

“Oh.” She said, looking down at her feet, her golden brown hair sweeping down around her.

“I just mean that there’s nothing to apologize for,” Azriel rushed out, her eyes peering up at him and his heart started fucking racing. “I work down at the local fire station, so I’m used to chaos.”

She bit her lip, her eyes dropping down to his muscled arms for a moment as she asked, “You’re a firefighter?”

“Yeah,” Azriel said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Azriel.”

“Elain,” She replied with a soft smile and placed her small hand in his. “It’s nice to meet you,” Azriel never wanted to let go. Her eyes flicked to the duffle bag on the floor behind him. “I don’t want to keep you.” She started to pull her hand away.

“No worries,” Azriel said quickly. “I was just going to meet up with some friends at the gym. Do you want to come in?” Azriel nodded to his apartment behind him. “I make espresso that goes great with pie.”

Elain took her hand back.

“Thank you for the offer,” Elain said with a small smile, taking a step back and reaching for the door knob to her apartment. Azriel felt his body screaming in response as she moved farther away from him. His eyes taking in the purple sundress she was wearing. “But my boyfriend is coming over soon.”

Azriel’s body steeled at the words. Boyfriend?

“Boyfriend?” Azriel asked out loud and Elain nodded her head.

“He’s coming over to see my new place.”

“He didn’t help you with the move?” Azriel already hated him. For probably more reasons that he didn’t want to think about, but what loser didn’t help his girlfriend with a move? Did she move in all by herself? Now that he thought about it, other than a few people from a moving company he didn’t see anyone else moving her in.

She shook her head.

“He was busy.” Elain said simply and Azriel hoped he kept his glower off of his face.

“Well, if you need any help you can always knock on my door.” Azriel offered, forcing a smile and he was delighted when she gave him one in return.

“Thank you,” Elain said, opening her door, and almost shutting it before she poked her head out. “And I love espresso.”

Azriel stood in the hallway, staring at her door and holding the pie and wondering what the hell just happened.

— — — — —

“No, no, no, you don’t understand, he was really pretty.” Elain said to her sister over the phone as she rushed around her apartment.

“How pretty?” Feyre asked, her voice crackling from the poor cell service in Elain’s new building.

“I-forgot-about-Graysen-pretty.” Elain said, adjusting the bouquet of spring flowers on her coffee table. Residual guilt gnawing at her bones. Her boyfriend of two years. She forgot about her boyfriend of two years because of a pretty face. And muscles.

Something clattered on over the phone and Elain knew that her sister dropped a paint brush.

“Oh my God.” Feyre said, stunned.

“I know!” Elain cried, repositioning the silverware for the tenth time.

“Can you send me a picture?” Feyre asked.

“Well, I don’t have one, but just imagine the most good looking man you can think of and then like double that. And imagine him as a firefighter.” Elain said and rushed across the apartment to stir her bolognese sauce.

One interaction with Azriel and she was buzzing around her apartment not knowing what to do.

“I need to throw you a housewarming party just to see him.” Feyre said, laughing over the phone.

“This isn’t funny!” Elain pouted, stirring her sauce. “I almost went in for espresso.”

“You hate espresso.” Feyre said, and even though Elain couldn’t see her she knew her sister was smiling.

“I know.” Elain replied with a sinking feeling and stifled a sigh.

She couldn’t be friends with Azriel. He was too pretty. And by all accounts he was nice. She got the sense that he actually would help her if she needed it. That he wasn’t just saying that to be polite.

For some reason she wanted to stomp her foot like a child. She had to practically beg Graysen to see her new place.

“What are you going to do?” Feyre asked.

“Nothing.” Elain said abruptly.

“Elain,” Feyre said gently. “You called me just to talk about how pretty your neighbor is.” There was so much unspoken in Feyre’s voice that Elain felt the weight of it on her shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter,” Elain said, forcing away the rush of emotions. “I’m with Graysen.”

There was a moment of silence over the phone.

“It’s not a crime that you find another man attractive, Elain.” Feyre said and Elain felt herself nodding along.

“I know.”

A knock sounded from the door.

“I have to go, Graysen is here. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Ok-love-you-bye!” Feyre rushed out before Elain hung up.

— — — — —

“I can’t believe you followed me home.” Azriel said, fishing around in his duffle bag to pull out his keys.

The thump of Cassian bouncing a basketball beat steadily behind his back as Azriel unlocked his door.

“I didn’t follow you home,” Cassian said and Azriel shot him a bland look over his shoulder. “We’re hanging out, it’s what friends do.”

“And your being here has nothing to do with Elain?” Azriel asked, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at Cassian who had begun to spin the basketball on his index finger.

“Of course not, I—”

The ball slipped from Cassian’s finger and flew across the hall, smashing against Elain’s door. How the ball managed to move perpendicularly through the air, Azriel never knew.

Half of Azriel wanted to rush into his apartment and slam the door to leave Cassian to his own humiliation, but the sound of a male voice behind Elain’s door made Azriel stay in place.

Two seconds later they watched as the door swung open to reveal someone Azriel could only assume was The Boyfriend standing there with Elain peering out at them behind his shoulder.

The Boyfriend…did not look happy as he took in Azriel and Cassian standing in the hallway.

“Hi Azriel,” Elain said with a polite smile as she curiously looked at him. The eyes of The Boyfriend snapped to her and narrowed. “Is this yours?” She went to reach for the stray basketball, but The Boyfriend’s hands shot out and grabbed it first.

“You should be more careful next time.” He said, holding the ball out to Azriel, his eyes weary and smile plastic as he sized Azriel up.

“My bad,” Cassian said with a charming grin as he took the ball that Graysen was holding out after it became obvious that Azriel wasn’t going to. “Azriel has better control over his balls than I do,” Cassian took a step back and slapped Azriel on the back, but when no one laughed he stuck his hand out toward Elain. “Cassian. Nice to meet you.”

“Elain.” She replied kindly, her eyes flickering to Azriel as she accepted Cassian’s outstretched hand.

“I was on the phone with him this morning.” Azriel said and nodded towards Cassian, his lips twitching as Elain’s eyes widened.

Everyone noticed the way her cheeks flushed and the way Cassian smiled hungrily.

Elain sheepishly drew her hand back as she asked, “Are you a firefighter as well?” Her eyes dipped to his t-shirt which boasted the numbers of the local fire station.

“You know it,” Cassian’s grin widened. “Someone’s got to rescue all those kitties trapped in trees.”

Elain laughed at that, but The Boyfriend bristled.

“We should get back to lunch.” The Boyfriend said with false cheer.

“Of course,” Elain said, blinking. “It was nice to see you both.” She nodded at Azriel and Cassian.

“I’m having some friends over next week,” Azriel rushed out as Elain was turning away. Her wide brown eyes curious as she looked at him over her shoulder. “Saturday. You should stop by.”

“I’d love to —”

“We have plans.” The Boyfriend cut her off, and Azriel couldn’t stop himself from glaring at him.

Elain’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she said, “But I asked if you wanted to get brunch and you mentioned a business lunch?”

Azriel’s jaw hurt as he ground his teeth together.

“We can head over once that’s wrapped up.” The Boyfriend said, his smile not budging from his lips.

“Elain can come whenever she wants.” Azriel said, his voice not exactly dark, but full of meaning. Enough meaning that Elain’s cheeks turned ripened pink and The Boyfriend outright glared at him.

Azriel didn’t back down from his stare, keeping his face completely neutral even though he knew Cassian was wearing a shit-eating grin next to him.

“That’s very kind of you,” Elain muttered, tugging on her boyfriend's arm. “I’ll see you later?” She asked hesitantly, and Azriel nodded in confirmation.

“It was nice meeting you!” Cassian called out as Elain was closing the door, but they managed to see the small smile on her lips before they were shut out.

Azriel and Cassian stood in the hallway, Azriel looking at the door intensely while Cassian’s eyes flitted between the door and his friend.

“Fuck that guy, right?” Cassian said.

“Yeah,” Azriel nodded. “Fuck that guy.”

— — — — — —

“And you haven’t seen him, right?” Graysen asked over the phone, his voice suspicious and casual in a way that made Elain roll her eyes.

“Not even in passing.” Elain said, flipping over her pancakes. For some reason she was craving something sweet as soon as she woke up — she didn’t even bother changing out of Graysen’s old Wharton’s shirt and her boy shorts she slept in.

“Good.” Graysen said, his relief evident over the phone.

“I don’t know why you hate him so much.” Elain muttered, moving her pancakes off of the heat and getting ready to add more batter to the hot pan.

“He was coming onto you right there in the hallway, right in front of me, and you weren’t exactly telling him to back off.” Graysen said irritably.

“You’re exaggerating.” Elain said, but the creeping, gnawing feeling of guilt wormed its way underneath her skin. She might be able to lie to Graysen, but she couldn’t lie to herself. And the fact that she could lie to Graysen sent alarm bells blaring in her mind.

“Yeah, well, don’t go over there on Saturday without me.” Graysen said in a way that made Elain bristle.

“You don’t even know what time your lunch will be over,” Elain said, her voice hitting an unbecoming whine. “And I’m free all day, so why wouldn’t I go over?”

“Because he wants to fuck you, Elain.”

“He does not!” Elain roared over the phone, her cheeks burning as she angrily flipped her pancakes. “And besides, there will be lots of people over there so it’s not like we’ll be alone. And after years of dating I’ve given you zero reasons not to trust me.”

Graysen sighed into her ear.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized and Elain felt slightly mollified. “I just don’t like that he lives across from you.”

“You have nothing to worry about.” Elain said in resignation, but she wondered if she had the willpower to push Azriel away if he made a move on her.

“I know.” Graysen said, but Elain could tell he didn’t quite believe the words.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a knock sounded from the door.

“I should go,” Elain said, taking the pancakes off a little too soon so they wouldn’t burn. “My breakfast is ready.” She didn’t tell Graysen about the knock, having a sneaking suspicion it was Azriel on the opposite side of the door.

“Enjoy, baby.”

“Thanks.” Elain said, hanging up before her guilt could consume her.

She rushed across the hardwood floor, completely forgetting the fact that she was in her underwear, and opened the door a crack to see Azriel on the opposite side of the door.

“Hi.” Elain said breathlessly, taking in his wet hair and clean scent and gray sweatpants. His white t-shirt clung to his torso in a way Elain shouldn’t have noticed.

“Hey,” Azriel said in a low voice, his face touched with kindness. “I was wondering if I could borrow some sugar?” He held out an empty measuring up.

“Oh,” Elain said in surprise. “Of course, come in.” She opened the door wider and stepped aside.

As soon as Azriel clocked what she was wearing his eyes darkened and he visibly swallowed.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Azriel said, his voice slightly scratchy.

Elain shook her head, her golden curls moving with her head, and said, “You’re not interrupting. I’m just making some breakfast…I always make too much…do you want some?” She nodded to the plate of towering pancakes.

“If you don’t mind.” Azriel said, a small smile winding on his lips.

“Of course not,” Elain said, gliding back to the kitchen in a rush. “Please have a seat.” She motioned towards the table without looking at it.

She piled four pancakes on top of each other with little pads of butter between them and drizzled a generous amount of maple syrup on top before placing it in front of Azriel.

“Coffee?” She asked and as soon as Azriel nodded his head, she filled up a mug and got out the half-and-half and set it down on the table.

“Did I forget anything?” Elain asked, looking around. “Oh! Do you like blueberries?” She was about to take off again when Azriel’s warm hand clasped around her wrist.

“Elain,” He said gently and Elain felt herself melt. His hazel eyes were amused and kind as they captured her attention. “I don’t mind, but you might want to put some pants on.” His eyes flickered down to her legs before he forcefully pulled them away.

“Oh,” Her eyes widened. “Oh! I’m so sorry! Excuse me!” Elain scampered off to grab the first article of clothing she could find - her well loved plaid pajama shorts. “Please just ignore the last three minutes!”

Her cheeks were pink as she made her way back into the common area, but even though she should be dying of humiliation since she was walking around pantless in front of someone she’d talked to for a collective ten minutes — she had a feeling this story would be re-told with charm rather than embarrassment.

“You’re not eating,” She stated when she returned to the table, her brows coming together. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m just waiting for you.” Azriel said with an easy grin.

Her heart stopped as if it understood his words and didn’t quite believe it.

He was waiting for her. How many times had she made a meal for Graysen and he just started without her?

“I’m sorry,” Elain muttered, averting her eyes. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” She quickly gathered her own pancakes and coffee and sat next to Azriel — well adjacent to Azriel since she sat at the head of the table and Azriel was directly to her right.

“Don’t apologize,” Azriel said, leaning forward to place a warm hand on her bare knee. “I’m just trying to be polite.”

Her eyes locked on his brown hand on her pale thigh. Little scars scattered the length of his skin to create something beautiful, but she was taken by the mere size of his hand and the way it emitted warmth.

“Sorry.” Azriel quickly took his hand back as if she burned him. “I know they can freak people out.” His cheeks were red as he cut into the fluffy pancakes with his fork, little puffs of steam floated through the air as he took a bite. “Delicious pancakes, thank you.” Azriel said as he dug back into his breakfast.

“No,” Elain said belatedly and Azriel looked at her in confusion. “I was thinking about how large your hands are,” She held up her own hand, palm facing him and wiggling her fingers. “My sisters always made fun of how small my hands are. See?”

Azriel blinked at her.

“Your hands are perfect.” Azriel declared and Elain blushed.

“Well, so are yours, but that doesn’t mean mine aren’t freakishly small.”

Azriel snorted at her.

“They’re not freakishly small, they’re just…small.” Azriel said, smiling and Elain rolled her eyes in affection.

“Let me see yours.” She motioned for him to lift his hand up and he slowly, almost sheepishly, exposed his scarred and calloused palm to her. Elain laid her palm directly against his, indulging in the feel of his hand. The warmth. The strength. She tried to not think about his hands gripping her hips, or his fingers writing on her body. She really tried not to think about that.

“Hmmm.” Elain hummed as she took in the size difference of their hands. Her fingers barely touching his and his palm noticeably larger than hers. “I can’t tell if my hand is freakishly small or if yours is freakishly big.” She half-heartedly joked.

“I don’t know, I think they fit pretty perfectly together.” Azriel said almost thickly, and Elain tore her gaze away from their hands to see him intensely staring at her.

“Me too,” Elain said, slowly — begrudgingly — taking her hand back and using it to pick up her fork to stop herself from reaching for him again. “I can reach the bottom of the Pringles can and you can open any jar. We’re a match made in heaven.”

Azriel slowly smiled at her.

“I’d have to agree.” He turned back to his breakfast, smiling into his next bite.

Conversation flowed easily after that. They talked about how Elain worked with a local florist and would love to open up her own shop one day and how she’d also worked on her social media brand online, which explained her odd working hours. Azriel talked about how he had known Cassian since they were children and that she’d meet their other friend Rhysand on Saturday — and he even mentioned the fact that Rhysand convinced his family to take Azriel and Cassian in at a young age and how the three of them were closer than brothers. Elain mentioned her two sisters, whom she loved more than life itself, so Azriel extended them an invitation to his gathering on Saturday which caused Elain’s world to instantly brighten.

“Thank you again,” Elain said as they stood by her door hours later, her hands clasped behind her back as she peered up at Azriel. “I’m sure my sisters are going to be thrilled. We never get to do anything together anymore.”

Azriel’s dark brows pulled together.

“Why’s that?” He asked.

“Graysen doesn’t really like them,” Elain explained and Azriel couldn’t stop the scowl on his face. “Anyway,” Elain pushed on before he could comment. “Thanks again for stopping by.”

Azriel raised a brow at her and said, “I ate most of your breakfast and you’re thanking me?” It’s true. Azriel went back for seconds. And thirds. But Elain smiled as she watched him enjoy her food.

“You saved me from leftovers. I have bad habits when it comes to breakfast food. I love it too much.”

“Yeah,” Azriel said, leaning in conspiratorially, “I’m like that with baked goods.”

Elain grinned widely at him.

“Those are my specialty…I’ll have to bring something on Saturday.” She bit her lip to try and stifle her smile.

“I can’t wait.” Azriel said, grinning.

They stood there grinning at each other, neither one of them moving to open the door. Both of them ignoring the still-empty measuring cup that Azriel had brought over.

“I meant what I said the other day,” Azriel said, tilting his head at her. “You can come over to my place any time.”

“I am curious to see what it looks like.” Elain admitted.

“You can come over now. I —” An alarm bursted through the air, coming from the phone tucked inside of his back pocket. Azriel sighed, his body deflating. “My shift starts in 40 minutes.”

Elain couldn’t stop the wave of disappointment that swam through her.

“Some other time than.” She mumbled.

“Some other time,” Azriel agreed and pressed his lips into her soft, plump cheek before he could stop himself. “I’ll see you later, Elain.” He said, his breath tickling her overly-sensitive skin.

“Bye.” Elain said breathlessly, watching him leave with wide eyes.

She swayed for a moment in place before she fell against the door.

— — — —

“Are you sure about this?” Feyre asked, using her nail to clean up her lipstick in the mirror.

Elain’s entire bathroom was covered in beauty products as she and her sisters got ready to go over to Azriel’s place. Even though it was casual and there was no need for them to spend so much time on hair and make up…but the Archeron sisters liked to look good, and they liked getting ready together. Some of Elain’s most favorite memories involved them getting ready together, whether it was for prom or just to go shopping. It was when they felt the most like sisters.

“Of course.” Elain said, careful not to look at Feyre or Nesta because they could easily see right through her.

“Twenty bucks says Elain gets laid by the hot fireman by the end of the week.” Nesta said slyly, carefully coating her eyelashes in mascara. The black striking against her blue eyes. It took everything in Elain not to hip check her.

“Stop it!” Elain cried, but fighting a smile as she did it.

“How many times have you done it in your head?” Feyre asked with a cat-like grin as she fluffed her golden brown hair.

Elain pursed her lips together, not willing to give either of them the satisfaction of knowing that Elain had pictured her and Azriel together in vivid, graphic detail. She simply ignored them and reached for her favorite perfume.

“A-ha!” Nesta exclaimed, sticking the mascara wand out at her sister. “That’s sex perfume!”

“It is not!” Elain laughed as she sprayed her neck. And hair. And wrists. “I just felt like this one today.” She brushed off the fact that it was her most seductive scent.

“Mmhmm,” Feyre sounded, not hiding her smile. “And then explain the sundress?”

“And the fuck-me-heels?” Nesta added on.

Her sisters smiled knowingly, almost smugly, at her.

Elain opened her mouth and closed it again, feeling oddly like a fish.

“I just want to look nice, is that a crime? And these are hardly fuck-me-heels.” Elain said and looked down at the shoes in question. “They’re wedges, so they’re casual.”

“Your nails are painted red,” Nesta said with a devious grin. “And they have straps, so you know your hot fireman will think about undoing them.”

“Please.” Elain tried to scoff and push the thought out of the room.

“She has a point,” Feyre said, nudging Elain gently with her elbow. “But it’s nice to see you all dressed up.”

“And you’re due to a good fucking,” Nesta said, finally capping the mascara. Elain started to protest but her sister continued. “Are there going to be other hot firemen at this thing?”

“Probably.” Elain said with a smile.

The sisters made their way towards the door, all of them looking beautiful in their own right. Elain wore a flower-yellow sundress which she thought made her look tan and emphasized her brown eyes. Feyre was beautiful in her denim skirt and loose cream sweater. And Nesta was stunning in tight black jeans and sleek black top. Even though they goofed on Elain for her “fuck-me-heels” she chouldn’t help but notice Feyre and Nesta also wore heels. She smiled fondly as she shut the door behind them and went over to knock on Azriel’s door.

They waited all of three seconds before the door swung open and they were greeted by an exceedingly beautiful man. One that wasn’t Azriel. Or even Cassian.

His violet eyes looked at her knowingly before breezing past her and locking onto her sister. His grin grew as keen interest sharpened in his eyes. A crisp, white button down — which seemed it was perfectly tailored to his body — was tucked into jeans, and Elain was certain his outfit cost a small fortune.

“Hi,” Elain said, forcing herself to speak up. “I’m Elain — I live across the hall. Azriel invited us over.”

At the mention of her name, Violet Eyes snapped his attention back onto her.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” He said in an amused voice and stuck his hand out to her. “I’m Rhysand. Azriel will be pleased that you’re here,” Rhysand leaned in close, and Elain could feel Feyre leaning forwards as well, wanting to be included, while Nesta just stood back and observed. “You know he threw this entire party for you.”

“Hey, don’t fuck with her,” Azriel's familiar voice floated through the air, and Rhysand’s grin had a wicked quality as he moved out of the way to let Azriel in. “And it’s not a party.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes.

Elain felt breathless as Azriel’s hazel eyes trailed up and down her body, his eyes catching on the part of her leg that touched the hem of her sundress.

“Hi.” Elain said softly as her eyes connected with Azriel’s.

A slow grin unfurled on Azriel’s lips.

“Hi.” Azriel replied, his eyes heady and smoldering.

Nesta gave a not-so-subtle clearing of her throat.

“These are my sisters,” Elain rushed out, her cheeks flaming. “Nesta,” Elain nodded her head. “And Feyre.”

“Come in,” Azriel said, sticking his hand out to Nesta and Feyre. “Nice to meet you both.”

They all found themselves crammed into the entry of Azriel’s apartment, with Elain pressed against Azriel’s side. She could feel his muscles through the thin cotton of her dress and his hand naturally settled on her hip.

“Do you guys want a drink?” Azriel asked, his mouth close to her ear. “We’ve got beer, wine, and something Cassian made called ‘jungle juice’ which Rhys and I haven’t been brave enough to try.”

Nesta let out an amused scoff.

“Is this a frat party?” Nesta asked, a hair too mockingly, but after certain looks from Feyre and Elain, Nesta shrugged and said, “I like frat parties. It’s the only place we can do body shots in public.”

Rhysand and Azriel both chuckled at that and shared a look.

“Come inside.” Azriel said, gently pushing Elain by the small of her back.

It thrilled her to be touched by him and the fact that it felt so natural and comfortable almost squashed the hair of guilt she felt worming inside of her.

Azriel wasted no time getting her alone — she barely counted the number of people that filled his living room before he got her into the kitchen which was overflowing with coolers and snack foods.

“We’re grilling burgers and hot dogs later, but I have some chicken if you’d prefer that — there’s not enough for everyone, but I can grill it just for you. Or Mor brought some pasta salad and I think there’s humus out there if you don’t eat meat. You do —”

“I’ve never heard Azriel talk this much in my life.” Cassian’s familiar voice came from behind Azriel’s irritated form.

Cassian joined them and slapped Azriel on the back.

“Elain, you’re looking stunning as ever.” Cassian said with a smile. Elain could tell that whatever interest he may have had in her fizzled out (thankfully) and he only flirted with her to get a reaction out of Azriel.

“Thanks Cassian.”

“Can we help you?” Azriel asked him irritably, and Elain was entirely too affected by the fact that he wanted to have her completely alone.

“Just getting Nesta some of my famous punch.” Cassian said, entirely too flippantly. Elain had only known him for a short amount of time, but “flip” and “Cassian” didn’t mesh together.

Azriel grinned at that, his annoyance bleeding away.

“Trying to get her drunk already?” Azriel teased and Cassian cheeks turned pink.

“Dude,” Cassian started, looking at Azriel with wide eyes as he grabbed a red plastic cup. “She actually dared me to do a shot off of her —” Azriel kicked him and nodded his head towards Elain. Cassian shot her a pained look. “Sorry Lainy.”

Elain waved him off and said, “My selective hearing is one of my best qualities.”

Cassian grinned at her, but Azriel took a step closer to her and leaned against the counter and Elain felt herself being pulled into his side by some magnetic force. Cassian kept talking, but Elain wasn’t entirely sure what about because she kept imagining Azriel putting his arm over her shoulder — and was her mind playing tricks on her, or was he gripping the counter to stop from reaching for her. If he did put his arm around her shoulder, then would he pull her in close? Would he massage the back of her neck or place his fingers in her hair? He was so close that Elain could smell his aftershave and Elain fought herself from taking a long, deep inhale.

Suddenly, Elain was hit by the weight of her crush.

She felt like she was back in high school with the giddy butterflies swarming her stomach.

“So what does she like?” Cassian’s voice finally broke through, or maybe it was the fact that Azriel kindly nudged her with his elbow.

“Huh?” Elain asked, a bit dazed from where her thoughts were taking her.

Cassian grinned at her, as if knowing exactly what she was thinking.

“Nesta,” Cassian confirmed, not commenting on how spacey Elain was being. “What does she like?”

Elain thought for a second, tossing and turning ideas over in her mind.

“Her bark is worse than her bite,” Elain said softly. “And she can be a bit prickly if someone gets too close, but she really just wants someone to like her for who she is. Someone that doesn't back down. And someone who makes her laugh.”

Cassian nodded, a drink in each hand, and Elain knew he was taking what she said to heart.

“Thanks,” Cassian said with a kind smile — which quickly turned more devious. “I’ll get of your hair before Azriel kills me like I know he wants to. He was so cute, planning this thing all week and getting pissy when we called it a ‘party’ and —”

“Alright,” Azriel said, pushing off of the counter and steering Cassian out of the kitchen with by his shoulders “Time to fuck off.”

Cassian threw his head back in a laugh, his curls flying, but he didn’t put up a fight as Azriel forced him out of the room.

When they were alone again Azriel finally turned around to face her and Elain couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on her lips.

“I have a question,” Elain said as Azriel made his way back to her, his strong arms crossed over his chest. “Did you really do this for me?” Elain asked, her voice slightly too breathy.

Azriel moved in closer.

His nose just a hair's breadth away from her.

“Elain, I’ve lived here for four years and never had more than four other people here at a time, but now I’ve called every friend of a friend I could think of just as a cover so no one would think twice about me inviting the beautiful girl next door into my place. I even have a fucking beyond burger on deck just incase you don’t eat meat. Cassian had to talk me out of buying flowers for tonight but…” Elain couldn’t breathe. Azriel took a step away from her and opened the fridge and Elain saw a beautiful bouquet of tulips. “But Rhysand said to just give them to you tomorrow.”

“You got me tulips?” Elain asked, the air in the room turned hot and humid and thick.

“You said they were your favorite.” Azriel said, looking slightly confused.

“And you remembered.” Elain felt her face crumbling.

Graysen always got her roses. She was always grateful because it was a nice gesture, but she told herself that it was nice enough to get flowers and she shouldn’t be so picky…but it had taken Azriel an entire week to get her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. It wasn’t asking for too much to want something, and in all of two seconds Elain realized just how little she had been settling for.

“I just thought you’d like them.” Azriel shrugged and brushed a stray wavy lock out of his face.

“I love them. I —” She was about to say that she was going to break up with Graysen. Because she was going to at the first chance she got. She was tired of settling for the merest hint of attention and every scrap of affection that he bothered to throw at her. And it was so incredibly important to her that Azriel know that she’s going to end her relationship.

“Elain?”

Invisible ice slid down her back as she looked behind Azriel to see Graysen standing in the doorway, his eyes bouncing back between Elain and Azriel. An accusatory look in his eyes, one that wasn’t unfounded, but was thankfully left unspoken.

Azriel simply nodded to Graysen and closed the refrigerator door.

“Hey,” Graysen said to Azriel and walked over to Elain, interlocking his fingers with hers. “Thanks for inviting us.”

Azriel leaned against the closed refrigerator door and crossed his arms.

Elain wondered if this was something to cry about.

— — — —

She had no idea how she made it through the party, but she did. A broken heart heavy in her chest as she smiled her way through polite conversation — she felt awful watching Graysen chat and talk and be friendly knowing she was going to end what was between them. Every time he locked eyes with her he looked a bit confused and he asked if she wanted to leave about three times, but she kept saying no, not wanting to cause any type of suspicion.

They didn’t leave until almost midnight, and even then there were still people loafing around, but she had completely lost track of Feyre and Nesta. Azriel was backed into a corner by some blonde and Elain avoided the way he was desperately trying to seek her eyes as she left.

As soon as Elain closed the door to her apartment she watched as Graysen flopped onto her couch and kicked his feet onto the coffee table.

“Thank fuck that’s over.” Graysen groaned, letting his head fall back onto the couch.

“Graysen.” Elain said, unable to keep the crack out of her voice.

His body tensed as he opened his eyes, and Elain knew that he knew.

He sat up and placed his feet firmly on the ground and clasped his hands together between his knees.

“Did you fuck him?” Graysen asked, a quiet anger in his voice.

“No,” Elain said emphatically, walking over to him. “Of course not?”

“But you thought about it?” Graysen asked, his voice tight like a spring wound too far.

“I —” Elain couldn’t bring herself to lie about it, she just stood there with her hands limply at her sides.

“Fuck.” Graysen exclaimed, launching the vase of flowers on the table across the room with the flat of his hand.

Elain couldn’t help the shriek that escaped her — out of surprise more than anything else.

“I knew from the way he fucking looked at you, and the way you looked at him…I haven’t seen that look in your eyes since…well, since you looked at me for the first time.” Graysen sounded hurt and defeated and angry and Elain felt about two inches tall.

A heavy thumping came from her door followed quickly by Azriel’s voice calling out for her name.

“Great,” Graysen said, standing and gripping his hair. “Fucking great we can’t even break up without him being here.”

Graysen took a step towards the door, but Elain held out a hand to stop him and rushed towards the door in case he made a charge for it.

Elain cracked open the door to see a worried and concerned Azriel.

“Are you ok?” Azriel asked, his eyes looking her over from top to bottom to make sure she wasn’t harmed. “I heard you scream.”

“I’m fine,” Elain assured him and forced a smile. “Just, um, surprised. But I’m ok. I promise.”

Azriel’s intense hazel eyes looked behind her, zeroing in on Graysen, and Elain watched as a dark cloud descended on his face.

“We’ll talk tomorrow?” Azriel asked and Elain nodded, quickly shutting the door.

Elain turned around and rested her back against the door.

“At least you’ll be in good hands.” Graysen said bitterly, walking towards the door.

“Grayen,” Elain pleaded, staring up at him. “Don’t end it like this.”

He smiled cruelly at her and said, “You’re the one that ended it.”

He didn’t push her out of the way necessarily, but he definitely pushed past her.

For some reason, Elain followed him into the hall, it seemed like the polite thing to do. Like she was sad to see him go — and she was sad. She wasn’t sure if she was sad Graysen was leaving or sad that she spent so much of her life with him and now he was going to be nothing more than a memory.

“Oh great, you’re here,” Graysen said, almost laughing in absurdity. “Of course you’re still here.”

Azriel’s eyes didn’t move from Graysen, carefully tracking his every move.

“You didn’t have to stay.” Elain said, melting a bit at the gesture.

“I wanted to.” Azriel said, his face and voice utterly neutral, making it clear that he didn't want to escalate anything.

Elain watched the muscle popping in Graysen’s jaw, and he took one step at Azriel before turning and storming down the hall.

“She’s not worth it.” Graysen muttered before turning the corner.

Elain and Azriel stood in a heavy silence, broken only by two drunken party goers leaving Azriel’s apartment and he nodded goodbye to them as they stumbled down the hallway.

“We broke up,” Elain blurted out as soon as they were alone again. “I broke up with him,” Azriel nodded, his eyes wide as he processed what Elain said. More drunken revelry was happening in Azriel’s apartment and before they could be interrupted again Elain motioned to her apartment. “Want to come in?”

Azriel nodded and followed her inside. His eyes immediately took in the broken glass, water, and limp flowers on the floor.

“The scream?” Azriel asked with a raised eyebrow and Elain nodded shyly.

“I was surprised.” Elain said, about to spring into action to clean up the mess, but Azriel was already kneeling down and picking up the shards of glass.

“Don’t cut yourself,” Elain rushed around getting the dustpan and trashcan before kneeling next to him. “You don’t have to do this, Azriel.”

She swept up some of the glittering pieces of glass and Azriel dumped a handful of them in the trash can.

“I want to help you, Elain,” Azriel said meaningfully, and Elain felt two hot, salty tears slide down her face. “In any way I can.”

“Thank you,” Elain said, clearing her throat and clearing it again because somehow it became harder to breathe. “Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Elain.” Azriel said softly, picking up the last few large pieces of glass. After a quiet pause he softly asked, “What happened?”

Elain couldn’t look him in the eyes as she wondered how to answer him.

“You,” She said as she swept a sad-looking rose into the dustpan. “Your tulips. I just — I realized how much our relationship was over, you know? How empty it actually was. I just couldn’t pretend anymore.”

Elain swept up the last of the damage before finally looking Azriel in the eye.

“You remembered I liked tulips,” Elain said with a shrug. “He never did.”

“He’s a fucking idiot.” Azriel said gruffly.

Elain shrugged and was about to say something in response — she wasn’t sure what, but somebody hollered for Azriel out in the hall.

“Are you ok?” Azriel asked, standing. Outstretching a hand to Elain to help her stand.

“I’ll be fine.” Elain said, forcing a smile. A smile that melted into a very real one before Azriel placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

Azriel’s name was called again and he begrudgingly left her apartment.

Elain took a shower and tried not to think too much about what the hell happened, and listened to music that both helped her wallow in her sadness and made her feel a little less alone and eventually she managed to fall asleep. Before she slipped into her dreams she remembered the plate of cookies she made especially for Azriel, wanting to hold off until the party was over to give them to him.

When she woke up the next morning, it was to Azriel knocking at her door holding a bouquet of tulips and a little shot of espresso.

#The Tortured Bats Department #elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #fawnandshadows writing #elriel month #elriel month 2024

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miumura · 11 months ago

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( 🚋 ) NOT OUR LAST GOODBYE — KOGA YUDAI FIC

[ DAY THIRTEEN ] of the advent calendar !

( 🚋 ) SYNOPSIS . . . after a heated argument with K, little did you expect that the last time you’d see him would be at his departure, after leaving you in silence for days.

( — ) PAIRING . . . best-friend!k x gn!reader FT. EJ &TEAM

( 🚋 ) GENRE . . . angst lolz, misunderstandings, friends 2 …?

( — ) WARNINGS . . . INSPIRED BY THE MOVIE “20TH CENTURY GIRL” (sorry guys), k and reader kinda frustrating ..

( 🚋 ) NOTE . . . Hi!! Super late Sorry!! but originally this wasn’t even gonna be angst if i be honest … but train station … 20th century girl … so yes!!! also pretend the pics above give christmassy vibes LMAO it js seemed right to keep it like this and yes i can hear u quivering miles away Ms Sonata 😊

Once again, and unsurprisingly, K had missed yet another hangout. You really tried waiting and being considerate, but not even him in sight. Seated alone in the cafe with two drinks you bought with your own money, frustration grew. The plans had been made two weeks prior, and despite K's assurances, he was nowhere to be found.

Unable to bear it any longer, you navigated to your contact list and pressed on his icon, hoping for an explanation. Anxiously biting your nails, you waited through two beeps until he answered with a casual, "Hello?" Your scoff was loud enough for him to hear, a response to his nonchalant greeting after ditching another hangout without any warning.

"Again?"

"Huh?" Did he genuinely believe he had the right to question you after what just happened?

"Are you serious right now? You just missed another hangout, K." His mumbled apology reached your ears, sounding like he was cursing himself for even forgetting. "Damn it—I'm so sorry, YN. Can I make it up to you tomorrow?"

"You've got to be kidding me." You couldn’t help the anger slowly rising in you. “I’m here, waiting in the cold for you just to not show up again?” The hot air escaped your mouth as you scoffed. “You know, you shouldn’t suggest ideas for a winter hangout if you’re just going to not appear.”

"It—it just slipped my mind! I'm sorry," K explained, but you weren't buying it. You've let him slide too many times.

“It just ‘slipped out of your mind’? We planned his hangout 2 weeks prior—you even promised to show up today! Do you think I’m really going to buy that bullshit?”

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that but—”

“You say this all the time. What the hell have you been doing?”

“Listen—I just…” You could hear him trail off, as if restraining himself from saying more. What could he be hiding that's so important? “I’ve been busy.”

“And so have I? But I've always spared time to hang out with you and show up to everything you schedule. And suddenly you can't show up to something we both agreed on? K, you're slowly becoming distant with me.”

“It's not like I'm trying to!” He lowered his tone, recognizing his anger taking hold. “I just couldn’t do it today. It’s just—it’s not something I can tell you that easily.”

“I'm your best friend, what the hell do you mean?”

“I—I can't say. Not right now.”

“You really have to be an idiot if you think I'm gonna believe that. This friendship can’t work if you’re like this.” You pushed your hair back in frustration. "I get it, you're busy. But this is a pattern, K. A pattern I can't keep ignoring," you stated firmly.

"I know, YN. I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you," K continued apologizing.

"I've heard enough apologies, K. You're not the only one with a busy life," you replied, frustration evident in your voice.

"Please, just give me another chance."

But the more he apologized, the more irritated you became. "I need some space, K. Figure out what's going on with you. We'll talk later."

“But YN—”

“Just leave me alone, will you?” You angrily said, clearly sick of his pleading. “You clearly have no problem doing so, it seems like, anyways.” Without another word, you hung up, leaving K with the dial tone and a realization that he screwed up real bad.

And you’ve made it your goal to make him feel how you felt every time he ditches you.

DAY ONE. K attempted to act as if everything was okay, anticipating that you'd eventually give in and talk to him as you always did. Little did he know, you were determined to make him feel the weight of his actions—even if it felt harsh.

“Hey YN,” he greeted, met with your silent response.

“You need help?” you simply shook your head.

“Wanna go together?” He tried once more, but you walked away without a word.

Undoubtedly, a sense of guilt crept in, but the memory of that night kept replaying in your mind, fueling the anger you harbored toward him. K seemed to notice the shift, creating awkward moments and growing distant—much like that regrettable day.

You didn't care; in your eyes, it was deserved.

DAY THREE. You're enduring the silence longer than you initially thought. Ignoring him, refusing to even cross paths, felt strange considering how inseparable you used to be. School had become a bit dull without him, but you were determined to hold out for a week…right?

“Are you seriously not going to talk to him?” EJ asked, straw twirling between his fingers. “You're really creeping me out.” He says, as if you aren’t supposed to be the one creeped out by him instead for drinking an Iced Americano during the first days of winter.

“What do you mean?” you blew onto your cup, closing the lid back to take a sip of your coffee.

“You never hold grudges like this—what's up with you?”

“Okay...but he messed up.”

“Did you hear him out?” EJ maintained eye contact, sipping his drink. “Not blaming you or anything, just wondering.”

“Well…no.”

“YN…”

“Well—if he wanted to, he would’ve reached out by now!” you tried defending yourself, but he was already sighing.

“You’re both too stubborn, aren’t you guys?” EJ shook his head, smiling a little. “Give him another chance—oh look, he’s right there,” he pointed, making you whip your head around, only to turn back to EJ when your eyes accidentally met.

“I have to go,” you hurriedly grabbed your bag, saying a quick goodbye. “Thanks, EJ!”

“YN, your drink—” But you were already running off, footsteps following closely behind. You wanted him to reach out, yet here you were, fleeing and feeling like a loser. But facing him seemed unbearable in your current state of embarrassment.

“YN,” a familiar voice called out, a hand on your arm, pulling you toward him. His warmth had such a contrast from the chilling weather today. You turned around, finding K with a serious expression. “Can we please talk?”

You wanted to be petty. For some reason, having K reach out first, you weren't going to make it easy for him. “I don't think there's anything we need to talk about.”

“Can you stop being like that and just talk to me?”

“Like what? Just some lame excuse about why you're missing time with me?”

“It's not useless—” K scoffed, running his free hand through his hair, locking eyes with you. “Do you really think I'm just here to tell you the same stuff I've been saying all the time?”

“So you've been lying?”

“That's not what I'm trying to say—”

“I've heard enough.” You tried to pull away from his grasp, but he held on, disappointment evident in his eyes. “YN, what is so hard about sparing a minute of your day? Why is it so hard for you to fucking listen?”

You took a deep breath. “Me? How about you, huh? Have you ever listened to me? Do you think you have the right to say that to me with all this shit you’re doing to me?”

“YN—”

“Here’s your answer then. Because I've spent so much time waiting for you to explain, and you only choose to do it now.” You give him a stern look. “I’m tired of hearing your bullshit—your constant, useless reassurances when you clearly don’t keep your word!”

“I'm tired of waiting for you.”

“YN! Please–”

You turned on your heel, determined to walk away and put an end to the conversation. As you took your first steps, a part of you hoped he would chase after you, while another part was tired of hoping for something that seemed uncertain.

K stood there, conflicted. He debated in his mind whether to let you go or chase after you once again. He longed to. He longed to reveal everything to you. Yet, was it the right moment? Were you even in the proper state of mind to even grasp onto his words? Letting out a substantial sigh, K pivoted, reluctant as he was, and proceeded to walk away from you, leaving you both to walk on two different pathways.

DAY FIVE. K hasn't been showing up to class for the past two days. You felt guilty – you didn't know why, but you had this nagging feeling that it was somehow your fault. EJ quickly picked up on your changed demeanor, his face reflecting concern. As you walked home together, he blurted out, "Did you say goodbye to him?"

You turned to him, confusion etched on your face. You had no idea what EJ was getting at, and he wasn't sure if you even understood the gravity of his words. "Say goodbye to who?"

"To K...?" he hesitated, confirming his suspicions when your expression shifted to one of shock; you were completely unaware. EJ wished he could vanish on the spot.

"EJ, that's not funny." You looked at him, not seeing his joking face he’d usually have. “You’re joking…right?”

"Well, I'm being serious. I'm not the type to joke about that."

“Why did I have to say goodbye?”

“He’s leaving today, YN. Did he not tell you?”

“Can we please talk?” You didn’t hear him out.

“YN, what is so hard about sparing a minute of your day? Why is it so hard for you to fucking listen?” He wanted to tell you something important. It was your fault.

“YN! Please–” It was your fault. All yours. No one to blame this time.

“You mean like…right now?” You looked at EJ, hoping you still had time to make things right with K. With glossy eyes, you could see his hurt expression, knowing what you had put yourself through. “Yeah. About to leave at the train station nearby.”

“I have to go.”

“YN! Be careful; you might get hurt–” You didn’t care. You didn’t care if you were going to get scrapes on your legs, you didn’t care if EJ was yelling your name—nothing could hurt more than losing a best friend that you didn’t leave off on good terms.

You ran as fast as you could, disregarding the chill in the air and the sting in your lungs. The train station came into view, and there he was—K, standing with a suitcase, staring into the distance. Your heart raced as you approached him, a mix of relief and fear coursing through your veins.

"K!" you called out, breathless.

He turned to you, surprise and uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "YN? What are you doing here?"

"I... I heard you were leaving," you panted, trying to catch your breath. "I had to see you before you go."

He sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I messed up, YN. I messed up big time, and I'm sorry."

"Let's talk about it," you urged, reaching out to touch his arm.

"I thought it was too late for a conversation," your heart shattered upon hearing those words. "But it was my fault anyway. I should've been truthful with you."

"Quit blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault—it was mine. I should've been more empathetic." Tears threatened to spill over as you maintained intense eye contact with him, your insides twisting with emotion.

“I didn’t mean to avoid you,” K began, his eyes searching yours for understanding.

“I know I messed up too,” you admitted. “I should have listened instead of shutting you out. I should’ve not said those things to you either.”

He nodded, a sad smile playing on his lips. “We both made mistakes, didn't we? But, let’s not worry too much about it—we’ll get over it like we always do. I’m leaving for a while, but I don’t want us to end like this. I care about you—damn, I even like you, YN," he said, causing you to gasp a little. "I’m sorry if this is too sudden—I just don’t know if I’d be able to tell you this any other day."

As you stood there, absorbing his unexpected confession, the reality of the situation sank in. "K, why didn't you tell me earlier?" you questioned, a mix of emotions clouding your mind.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I was scared, afraid it would ruin our friendship. But now, facing the distance, I couldn't hold it back any longer."

“K—” The train's arrival interrupted your conversation, and K looked at you with hopeful eyes. "I'll be back, YN. Let's talk when I return, okay?" he pleaded.

You nodded, and he pulled you into a hug, and for a moment, it felt like everything might be okay. “You should go,” K whispered, releasing you from the embrace.

“Take care, okay?” you said, holding back tears.

“You too, YN. I hope we can figure things out when I come back,” he said, a mixture of hope and uncertainty in his eyes.

"You promise to come back?"

"You know me. Who am I to fail to keep my promises—well, besides about the hangouts," he joked, attempting to lighten the mood. You smiled, finding comfort in his smile. "Then can you promise me on this one, and try not to break it?"

"I promise," he extended his pinky finger, waiting for you to interlock with him. Once you did, the warmth of his hand—similar from last time—transferred to yours, making it such a bittersweet moment. He brought his hand closer, kissing the side of your hand. "Hope that wasn't too sudden."

He smiled at your blushing face, releasing your hand. He had noticed how little layers you were wearing—did you really run like this just to see him? Taking the scarf of his neck, he wrapped it around yours, looking at you lovingly. "I'll do something sweeter next time. See you later, yeah?" You nodded, and he finally carried his bags to the train.

As K stepped onto the train, you stood there, gazing into his tear-filled eyes. How badly he didn’t want to cry in front of you. Waving, you declared, "I like you too, K!"

His heart warmed slightly. "I can't hear you," he teased, as he would've done by your side. Smiling, you shouted, "I like you so much!"

The doors closed, and you glimpsed K crying. Witnessing his tears always tugged at your heartstrings, and your own tears flowed uncontrollably. The train started moving, and as K disappeared from view, you stood there with tears streaming down your face. The reality of his departure hit you hard. "Come back soon," you whispered to the wind, as if it could carry your message to him.

Your heart felt heavy, and you couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of loss. As you wiped away your tears, you realized how much K meant to you and how the abrupt end to your argument had turned into a farewell.

Walking away from the train station, you carried the weight of mixed emotions. The confession, the unspoken feelings, and the promise of a future conversation lingered in the air. Most importantly, the emptiness lingered, but the promise of a reunion kept you going. Determined to make things right when he returned, you whispered to yourself,

“I’ll wait for you, K.”

ADVENT CALENDAR MLIST — @en-dream @i-yeseo @yizhoutv @yuma-is-mine @wtfhyuck @sansfransisco

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percervall · 1 year ago

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Mamma mia, here I go again {pt1}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: talk of pregnancy, brief mentions of a one night stand, mentions of cheating, mentions of abortion Word count: 1.2k Taglist: @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lazybot @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj

Part 1 of the Mamma Mia series

“Still not feeling well?” George asks you when he spots you dropping slices of ginger into your mug. You shake your head, trying to breathe through the waves of nausea.

“Had too much to drink again?” he jokes.

“No, God I wish it was just a hangover… Just- Just the consequences of my own actions,” you tip-toe around the subject as you pour the hot water into your mug. You feel George’s eyes on you, can almost hear the gears turning as he tries to figure out what you mean.

“So not a bug or food poisoning, not hungover… Are you-..”

“Yes,” you cut him off, not wanting anyone to hear, “Yes, I am and- and it is what it is.” You feel your shoulders tense up and you will yourself to relax.

“Does Kevin know?”

You shake your head, shame settling heavy in your chest at the mention of your on-and-off-again boyfriend, “No, and I don’t see why he should because I am not keeping it.” Before George can say anything else you leave the coffee station in the motorhome to find solace in your office, praying to whoever will listen that this doesn’t get out.

Your hope is short lived when there’s a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you call out, eyes glued to the screens in front of you.

“Hey,” a voice calls from the doorway and you freeze when you realise who it is.

“H-hey,” you reply, trying your hardest not to turn around.

“Can you please look at me?” You bite your lip and swivel round, pushing your computer glasses up into your hair. Looking up your eyes meet his’.

“Hey,” Lewis says again, a warmth to his eyes you’re having trouble placing.

“Hi,” you manage to utter, voice timid. You know you would’ve eventually have to see him again, working for the same team kind of made it impossible not to, even though both of you had decided to never speak of that night again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lewis asks, breaking through the fog of thoughts and memories.

“Tell you what?” You can feel your brows pull together in confusion.

“That you’re pregnant.”

The moment those words leave his mouth, you feel as if someone has pulled the rug from under you.

“Who told you?” you manage to utter as panic rises in your throat.

“George. I overheard him telling Lando and Alex before the press conference.”

“Oh no,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. You can only imagine the gifs and memes that are floating around on social media right now.

“I take it he wasn’t making it up? Come on, talk to me, My,” he says gently, crouching down in front of you. The nickname helps you feel a little more at ease, it having followed you for most of your career ever since you told one of the reporters off for making a sexist comment when you were at RedBull, Mika Häkkinen overhearing you.

“Yes, I am pregnant,” you whisper, “and the reason I didn’t tell you is because-.. I don’t-.. Lewis, I fucked up so bad. I don’t know who the father is.”

The two of you look at one another and you know he is thinking the same as you –the night neither of you regret but promised to never speak about.

“So there’s a chance I’m-..”

You nod, biting your cheek to stop the tears from falling. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m not keeping it, I can’t Lewis.”

“Wait, hold on. Does Kev know?”

You shake your head. Confusion is written all over his face.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t look him in the eye and tell him I cheated. Twice. In the span of 48 hours.”

“Oh Jesus. Damn girl,” Lewis mutters.

“But it’s fine,” you tell him in an attempt to convince yourself and ignore the feeling of shame weighing on you like a ton of bricks, “I have an appointment booked for Tuesday. I’ll be fine.” You wipe your tears away and plaster on a fake smile as you put your glasses back on.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do,” you say, effectively shutting down the rest of this conversation. Just four more days, you tell yourself, you’ve got this, just four more days.

Trying your hardest to keep your head down –and avoid the men that participated in your predicament–, you make your way through the paddock, scrolling through the data on your iPad.

“Skat?” someone calls out to you from your left. There’s only one person you know who would call you that and right now he is the last person you want to see.

“Oh, hi Kev,” you offer meekly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kevin asks you as he comes to stand in front of you. An unnerving sense of deja vu climbs its way up your spine.

“Didn’t tell you what?” you ask in return. Instead of answering you, Kevin holds up his phone, showing you the still paired Google calendar.

Tuesday 5 September 9:30 BPAS

“Kev-..”

“No, tell me why you didn’t tell me and I had to find out through Google. An abortion provider, really?”

“Lower your voice will you?” you hiss, his tone rubbing you the wrong way.

“Since when do I not have a right to know you’re pregnant with my child?” Kevin ignores your request and barges on, demanding an answer.

“Everything alright here?” The Australian accent makes you want to cry. Of course it’s just your luck that he is also here.

“Doesn’t concern you, Webber,” Kevin tells the older man before turning back to you, “Why did you keep this from me?”

“Kevin please-..”

“No! Why didn’t you tell me that you’re pregnant?”

You know you have two options here: you can either come up with some bullshit excuse or you tell him the truth, and neither of them seem particularly appealing right now.

“Because-..” you start, swallowing thickly, “Because I don’t know if you’re the father.” You feel both sets of eyes on you as you fight back the tears.

“Sweetheart, what do you mean?” Mark asks you quietly, a hand on your arm.

“You know damn well what I mean. And I am not your sweetheart.”

You have to give Kevin credit, it only takes him two seconds to put one and one together before he’s swinging for the former F1 driver. Mark takes a step back, shielding you behind him at the same time.

“Okay,” you hear Nico say and when you peek around Mark’s broad back, you see the German driver holding Kevin back. You have no idea where he came from, but for once you’re grateful to see him. “Kev, we fock smash doors, not people.”

“Suck my balls,” Kevin seethes, struggling to break free.

“Kevin, unless you want to explain all of this to both Steiner and Netflix, please listen to Nico,” you say. Kevin freezes, seemingly becoming aware of his surroundings, and lowers his arm.

“We will talk tonight, okay? Pretty sure you have a meeting to get to and I need to see if Toto hasn’t fired me yet. Tonight,” you add when Kevin opens his mouth to reply, “Same goes for you Mark. I’ll text you.” And with that you leave them behind, head down as you walk back to the Mercedes motorhome.

And the plot thickens! Told you it was an unhinged idea 🙈

Feel free to let me know what you think! Your comments, tags and likes mean the world to me

#f1 fanic #kevin magnussen x reader #kevin magnussen x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber x you #mamma mia fic

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inbabylontheywept · 1 year ago

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"Yeah, sure, and I shit thermite. Be serious."

So. Maybe, he’d gone a little overboard after work that day. He’d admit that. Drinking the sad away wasn’t the most mature way to handle things, but when you got a letter from your dad saying-

Well saying that, you know, maybe it was okay to have a beer or two. In theory. In practice, that meant that two-beers-deep Earl had to somehow have enough willpower to say “naw, I don’t wanna become three-beers-deep Earl,” and then three-beers-deep Earl’s gotta say no to four-beers-deep Earl, and it’s just a bit of a shitshow from there.

Pardon the french.

At least he wasn’t on the clock. The worst thing that should’ve happened to him was waking up tomorrow with a fatass headache and upset friends. Instead, he was in the hospital, surrounded by men with guns, osmotically absorbing the most surreal conversation of his life.

“We’d heard that humans had remarkable healing abilities but this is incredible. Anyone else here would be dead, he’s just showing some signs of esophageal irritation.”

“We got any idea of the culprit?”

“We’re looking over security footage but the culprit must be some kind of ghost. We’ve gone over the security footage at least twenty times, nobody can spot a thing.”

Earl couldn’t help it. He spoke.

“What are you talking about?”

The detective and the doctor jumped at the sound of his voice.

“What the shit-

The doc’s hand went over the detective's mouth, cutting off the oath just a hair too late. The duo looked after each other, before the detective gestured for the doctor to go first.

“I… don’t have very much experience with humans. We thought it’d be a couple of days at least before you woke up. How are you feeling?”

Earl coughed a few times.

“Throat’s raw, head’s pounding, and would kill for anything fried in grease. Pretty standard hangover.”

The detective cut in at that.

“Eh, except for the part where someone poisoned you.”

Earl shrugged.

“Must not have been very good poison.”

The lawman didn't laugh.

“Hydrochloric acid mixed with potassium salts? You can bet your pink ass it’s a good poison. Anyone else here would be dying from a hole in their gut. You been making enemies on the station, colony-boy?”

Earl’s smart alec remark froze as his one semester of biology 101 clawed its way to the front of his brain.

“Oh.”

The detective clicked his pen, ready to start taking notes, even as Earl waved him off.

“No crime here doc, my stomach makes that stuff naturally.”

The doctor blinked even as the detective rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and I shit thermite. Be serious pal, there’s someone here out to get you.”

Earl held his gaze, and after a few moments, the detective’s annoyed face transformed into numb confusion.

“...Hot damn, you aren’t joking. You’re telling me you can spew concentrated acid on a whim?”

The question hit a little close to him, and Earl felt his ears burn.

“Eh… not… on a whim. More like, after six or seven beers.”

The doctor grabbed a pad and began filling out forms of his own.

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to make sure you don’t do that then. You can’t just go around creating chemical waste every time you get sad. I’m going to have to get in contact with IT, set up some kind of cut off point with the cantina for you.”

Someone down the hall must’ve sanitized something because the odor of strong alcohol wafted into the room. It was all Earl could do to not empty his stomach a second time.

“Aye. That’s fair.”

#hfy #humanity fuck yeah #humans are space orcs #science fiction #creative writing #scifi #writing #humans can spit acid #advanced beer theory

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rockingrobin69 · 1 year ago

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Trouble

“Malfoy.”

With that smile and that hair and that smile. Coming in hot with two plastic cups, one held out like a shield. Draco was in trouble. “For you. Should still be hot, I hope.”

“What…” warily crossing his arms.

“It’s coffee. Pumpkin spice, two sugars. You seem like you’re ready to scream, and I know you can’t survive without your daily dosage.”

Potter’s eyes were so wide. So Potter, so green. Distracting and terrible. Did Draco mention that smile? The hesitant line, thin and curved deep. “My daily dosage?”

“You normally drink at least four. Only saw you with three today, so I thought…”

Was he blushing? Honestly. Trying to destroy Draco good and proper. “You… I’m sorry. I must be mistaken, but it sounds as though you count the number of coffees I have a day. Which, I know is mad. Seeing as you work in an entirely different department, and—and that it’d be mad.”

“It’s not like that,” Potter said, eyes wide with terror, so green, so fuck, “we do share a kitchenette, so… it’s not that mad. I don’t go out of my way to… c’mon, Malfoy. We notice each other. You know that.”

Notice each other. What a nice, neat, insufficient label. How very Potter of him to under-verbalise years of animosity, then of resignation, then a budding working relationship, then—apparently, this. Bringing each other coffee in the middle of the day. Oh, fuck, was it really five? He was so behind on those files.

“I—” looked up and gulped a little miserably. Potter was very close and very, well, himself. “Thank you. For the coffee. But I really must get on with all this.” Gesturing flatly at the desk laden with paperwork. “Bloody Robards and his,” swallowed the rest. Really unprofessional and also, also, just, maybe shut up? Thank you.

“Yeah, fuck him,” Potter grinned. The whole thing was entirely nonsensical. Draco’s mouth didn’t get the memo and was stretching into a strange kind of grimace, pointy-upwards. “D’you need a hand?”

“A hand?” eyebrow rising helplessly. “You want to help me with paperwork?”

“Why not?”

Eyebrow rising higher. “You. Want to help me. With paperwork.”

“If it’d get you out of here faster—”

“We don’t even work in the same department,” so wildly out of his element he was shouting. Swallowed, swallowed, tried to ignore how handsome Potter was even when his face turned into this, imploring thing. “What? I don’t—what is even. Is this some sort of a joke?”

His mouth opened into a horrified ‘O’. “No! Not a joke. I really just wanted to help.”

Draco closed his eyes, prayed for some guidance. Had his little crush been so obvious that even Potter had to take pity? “I don’t need your help,” he said, as crisply as he possibly could.

“I know that. I just, er, suppose I wanted an excuse to come talk to you?”

“An excuse to come—” stopped, the mocking tone turning into something softer and a hell of a lot more confused. “An excuse to come talk to me?”

“Plus, you really needed your coffee fix.” With that devastating grin. “Come on, drink it up, and we can talk about all the rest later.”

“The rest?” his heart fluttered quite madly in his chest, insistent and inexplicable, like Potter’s gentle nod.

“Yeah. Get everything you need sorted, and maybe I could walk you to the train station when you’re done? So we could. Erm. Talk.” His lips were even more kissable when he pouted.

Draco agreed before he realised, before the words fully sunk in. “All right. We could… yes. Thank you.” Nothing made sense, aside perhaps for the look on Potter’s face, the amusement that became familiar, and a little spark Draco wasn’t brave enough to name. His eyes, gorgeous, his smile, worse, slightly more confident now and just as destructive.

“I’ll give you half an hour,” graciously. “There’s a café not too far from here. On the way to the station. Maybe we could…”

“Yes, yes, just, go, Potter,” running a hand over his eyes, trying for stable, coming up short.

“Malfoy,” he winked.

Draco was in trouble.

Oh, well.

(Flufftober day 20. Find the soft AO3 collection here).

#drarry fic #soft!#office au?#very obvious pining. very obviously #anon - this is all for you #flufftober2023 #prompt: pumpkin #700 words #rockingrobin69

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missadangel · 3 months ago

Text

Little Bird in a Cage (Javier Peña x Reader)

Part 13: A New Life in Texas (WARNING +18, Smut, bathtub sex)

gifs by ilovejavierpena - tomshiddles

----------- All episodes here --------------

One week later...

It was time to leave, you have felt so many emotions this past week. It was not like just traveling to another country.

At first you were angry with your father again for forcing you to go somewhere without asking you. You visited him to talk, yet nothing has changed.

“You don't want to go with him? Okay, then I'll send you somewhere else.” He teased.

“What? No, of course I want to go with him,” you blushed. “Dad, stop it, do you really have to send me somewhere to protect me?”

“I don't want you to stay here after everything and, it wears me out to think that you are always in danger, I promised your mother that I would take care of you and protect you no matter the cost, you will be safe with him. Everything you need is in your suitcase, this is my way, bear with me, don’t be angry with me, okay?”

You were actually grateful as you hugged him tight and said goodbye.

Well all in all he was your father. He has done everything for you, even if it was wrong. If this was exile, you would have gladly accepted it, being with Javi was beyond awesome.

The second thing was about what to do there, after all, he hasn't asked you to marry him or anything.

You had to think about it, but maybe later.

Javi talked briefly about his family, but that was it. It wasn't a country you didn't know, you've been in New York before, but as a tourist. Now you were going to live or stay in his homeland with him.

You can’t be sure for future for now since he wants to protect you more than your father does.

You were nervous and excited at the same time. You had many sleepless nights because of this.

The best thing to do was to go with the flow.

When it’s time to say goodbye to your friend Caroline, you tried hard not to cry, you promised to call her often. You didn't know if you would see her again or how you would find her the next time, but you left her house wishing to meet her again.

Finally all goodbyes comes to end, Javi picked you up and you got to the airport together. You were both excited while getting on the plane.

"I think I'm really going to kidnap you this time," he whispered in your ear.

You giggled. "Should I call for help?"

"Don't bother, baby, the plane is already in the air," he smirked, kissing your cheek.

Through the window you could see that you were floating in the air, whatever was below looked tiny.

"Wow," you murmured as you say goodbye to your country, took a deep breath and leaned on Javi's shoulder.

You wished for a new page, a new life, and this time without trouble, please.

-----

It was a hot afternoon when the plane landed in San Antonio. There was only one direct flight from Santa Marta, but the distance between San Antonio and Laredo was 160 miles, which meant at least a two-hour drive. So after the flight, Javi rented a car from a rental agency. You took food in the car before you left, and you ate all the way. You even helped Javi when he had trouble drinking his coke and had fun feeding him the french fries one by one. As car drives through the roads of Texas, you enjoyed the scenery, desert-like plains, hills that in places were just sand and rock reflecting the color of the sun.

You poked your head out of the car window, admiring the scenery, enjoying the way your hair blew in the wind.

By the time you reached downtown, it was almost evening and the sun was about to set. As Javi drives, he pointed and told you about the important places around you, the police station where he worked as a deputy sheriff, the restaurant where he and his father used to go for dinner, his favorite bars, and other places around town.

"Amazing," you murmured, it was more beautiful than Cali.

You loved it, you couldn't wait to see everywhere on foot, but it was a long drive and you felt so tired. When Javi stopped at the gas station to get some gas you wanted to be on your feet for a while, you got out of the car and looked around curiously, since it was evening, people were going their home.

Later, Javi came out of the convenience store and walked towards you holding two cold glass bottles of coke. He uncapped one and handed it to you, and as you thanked him and took a sip, someone called out to him.

A guy about Javi's age, apparently he has also come to get gas. As they talking, he eyed you and then turned back at Javi, you blushed, he must have been a relative or a friend.

You opened the door and got in as Javi said goodbye to him and walked to the car.

Javi muttered himself as he opened the door.

"Someone you know?"

Javi started the engine, "My fucking cousin," he hissed.

You looked at him curiously as car started, he obviously didn't like him very much.

Javi laughed at the look on your face.

"He's probably going to tell the whole town that he saw me with an extremely beautiful girl," he said smiling, taking your hand and kissing it.

"What's wrong with that? I mean, people always like to talk about other people."

"You were born and raised in the city, cariño, in a small town like this, people will do anything for new gossip content."

"I guess, I'm the gossip content."

Javi pursed his lips as if he wasn't sure.

"Okay, now I'm officially worried."

"Do you already regret coming here with me?" He grinned.

You rolled your eyes, "No, of course not, I can take it, it's not like they're holding a gun to my head."

Seeing the flash of anger in Javi's eyes, you immediately regretted saying that.

"I mean, metaphorically, I-“

He put his arm around your neck, pulled you against him and kissed you on the head, his other hand was on the steering wheel and he kept driving the car.

“With me by your side, no one will be able to do anything to you.”

You nodded, “I know.”

“Here we are,” he parked the car in the yard of a small house. You looked at the house, it was much more beautiful than you have imagined. It was a small but spacious ranch house with a large porch.

Javi unloaded his suitcases from the trunk, they were all yours, he only had luggagebag, slung over his shoulder. He realized you still in the car, so he opened the car door for you.

“My lady,” he held out his hand to you.

“Mr. Peña,” you smiled, took his hand to get out

“Welcome to your new home then,” he kissed you on the cheek and you followed him as he carried the suitcases to the porch.

“Pops!” he called out, but it was very quiet, nothing but crickets.

“Maybe he went to the banks,” he put the suitcases in front of the door of a room in the hall.

As soon as you stepped inside you glanced over the kitchen, the living room, the furnitures, all in classic Texas style. Just like you’ve seen in the movies.

“It's a lovely house,” you said as you checking the wall decors.

“Come with me,” Javi grabbed your hand and pulled you into one of the rooms.

It was cozy, with a bed with a wooden headboard, a wooden dresser, and walls painted a light grayish color.

Javi hugged you from behind, “so this is my room, or, our room,” he giggled.

His breath caresses your cheeks and you almost forgot all your tiredness when you felt his mustache rubbing your neck.

“Do you want to try out the bed?”

He pulled you gently by the waist and before you knew it you found yourself laying on the bed. He leaned over and kissed you, and you put your arms around his neck.

“Mm, It's really comfortable,” you giggled.

He was about to kiss you again but you both stopped as you heard a loud man's voice.

“Son! Is that you?”

Javi turned his head that way.

“Yeah, it's me pops!” he called out, then grabbed your hand, gently pulling out of the bed.

You both left the room as Javi's father hanging his hat on the coat rack. He approached with smile and hugged his father.

“How you doing, pop?”

“Same old same old,” he tapped him on the shoulder, then looked at you, you were so excited, smiling shyly.

“Who is this beautiful young lady?”

“Yes, let me introduce you to Y/N,” putting his arm around you.

You approached him, “Pleasure to meet you sir,” you shook his hand, Chucho laughed.

“Sir? Come on, honey, call me Chucho, okay?”

“Okay Chucho,” you nodded, blushing.

“You guys hungry? You must be, you’ve came from far away after all,” he said on the way to the kitchen.

Javi looked at you raising eyebrows, you shrugged.

“Okay we'll join you for dinner,” he stepped around the table and pulled up a chair.

“Come baby, sit,” pointing with his head.

“Maybe we should help him?”

“Come on, I'm not too old for that,” he muttered you felt like scolded, so you decided to sit down.

Javi kissed you on the cheek and went into the kitchen, you laughed to yourself as he tried to take the plates from his fathers hand and got scolded by him in return. You wondered if they were always like this. They were so sweet.

During meal you talked to Chucho about Colombia, but he was not a man who askes lots of questions. But you liked him. Obviously he liked you too, you felt pleased and relieved because you have been thinking for a long time that he might not like you.

He never asked about your father, what he did for a living or anything like that, and felt appreciated.

More, you were surprised by the harmony between them, the way Chucho reads Javi and his every move, so he chats with you accordingly, how Javi is super comfortable with him also reads him. So easy, so natural.

Your father has never been like that.

After dinner, sitting on the porch at night, Javi had a cursory conversation with his father about work, you sat with them in silence, smiling. When it got late, Chucho excused himself and retired to his room.

“He's so nice,” you said to Javi as you sat in the chair next to him.

“He likes you too,” he smiled, finished his beer.

“Really?”

“He doesn't show his feelings much, but I'm sure.”

You nodded with a smile, then yawned, he smirked.

“It's been an exhausting day, let's go to bed,” he put his beer bottle down.

“Yeah, I feel pretty tired, can I take a shower first?”

Javi took your face in his hands. “You don't have to ask for that.”

“Well actually since there's only one bathroom...”

You were a little shy and concerned about that.

“It's okay, Chucho doesn't spend a lot of time in bathroom.”

“Hmm, okay, I guess I need time to get used to it.”

Javi placed a warm kiss on your lips.

“I'll help you with that.”

You yawned again as hugged him, he kissed the top of your head and looked at you.

“Why don't we take a bath together?”

“A bath?” raising your eyebrows.

Not shower?

Javi opened the bathroom door. "You grumbled about bathroom, but we have a bathtub that I think you'll like it."

You hasn't been in the bathroom since you came and now you saw the tub, feeling relieved.

"That's more like it."

Once the two of you were in the bathroom, Javi closed the door behind you, turned on the tap, and put the drain cork in the tub. You were watching him pour the bubble bath solution into the running water. As the tub filled, you took off your necklace and earrings, putting on the cabinet.

Javi was right behind you, slipped the straps of your dress and running his lips on your shoulder, you giggled as his mustache tickled a little. Then you turned to him and kissed. As the kiss deepened, you wrapped your arms around his neck tightly while he was busy taking off your dress with his long fingers. Your hands slipped from his neck to his shirt to unbutton it one by one, in a minute, your dress dropping to the floor then his shirt.

And then your bra, Javi undid it and took it off, then with your help he got rid of his pants and underwear and kicked the piles of clothes into a corner of the bathroom.

The tub was fairly full, Javi shut off the tap. He stepped in first laid back at the edge of the tub, looking at you with desire.

“Come on baby,” he licked his lips as he invites you in.

“Looks fun,” you giggled and settled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His wet hands were on your waist, on your shoulders, covering you with bubbles, rubbing gently, it felt so good.

Bubbles let your skin slide effortlessly against his so he pulled you closer, that made you brush against his cock, and he let out a moan of pleasure. Smiling at his mouth, you repeated the motion, teasing him.

You love when he moans.

He was so close to your entrance yet not inside, the bubbly water making everything feel slippery. But you wanted him so badly so you reached down and grabbed his cock and let it sliding inside. He moaned, grabbed your hips thrust up and pushes you down.

He grinned at your moan. "You love it.”

“I never said I didn’t,” you were panting. “And, I love the way you feel inside me Javi,” you barely whispered, he feels your warm breathe against his ear that makes turn him on more.

“I like the feeling of being inside of you, too, baby,” he purred and slid out of you then thrust deeply up into you, making you moan with great pleasure.

You moved against each other in a practiced rhythm, knowing each others' bodies well enough now that they didn't need to speak much. He pulled you down hard against him when he came same time with you, both moaning loud. You were sure the two of you were sloshing water out onto the floor now, but you didn't care.

He kissed you as sitting you sideways in his lap and leaning you into his strong chest.

Then just looked down at you, smiling. “I love you baby.”

“Love you too Javi.”

‘Y/N, cariño?’

Javi's worried voice suddenly woke you up. When you opened your eyes, you were gasping for breath, you couldn't understand why.

Javi put his hand on your cheek and leaned over you, his brow furrowed and his brown eyes looking very concerned.

'What, what happened?’

'Well, you were delirious, did you have a bad dream?

'Yeah?' Suddenly the dream just came back to you.

'Never mind, it was just a nightmare,' you said with a half smile.

‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

You sighed deeply.

'Well, a man had a gun to my head and you rushed to save me, but...' You swallowed. 'You didn't make it.’

Javi sighed and ran his nose through your hair, then kissed your forehead.

‘That will never happen, no one can hurt you, just try to forget what happened, please.’

‘I know, it's just a stupid dream.’

Suddenly your stomach growled and you felt so embarrassed, Javi laughed.

‘Let's get up, dad's probably already awake,' he kissed you again and got up to get dressed.

Sitting on the bed, you having a poker face because you were still in the grip of the dream, didn’t want him to worry.

When he left the room, you went to the bathroom and splashed water on your face hard. As you looked at your face in the mirror, you promised yourself that you would leave the stupid dream behind and try to live in the moment.

As you opened the bathroom door, you heard a woman's voice, walked to the living room, you saw a tall, middle-aged woman with curly dark brown hair hugging Javi.

As soon as she saw you, her mouth fell open.

‘Jesus,’ she raised her hands as she came towards you and immediately hugged you tightly, ignoring your flinch, then pulled her head back to study your face in detail.

‘What a beauty, no wonder why Javi rejected the girls I’ve arranged.’ she giggled, squeezing your shoulders gently, it was hard to tell if she was scolding or admiring.

You felt your face flush.

‘Tía,’ Javi whined.

‘Leave the girl alone Sofia,’ Chucho muttered.

‘Are you Javi's aunt?’ your soft voice sounded like a ringing, and the woman once again looked at you in amazement.

You held yourself from laughing.

‘Sí, cariño,’ she smirked. ‘And you must be the reason that kept Javi in Colombia all this time.’

Well she had a point.

‘Except the cartels,’ Chucho murmured, sipping his coffee.

‘Okay that's enough, come on baby, eat something,’ Javi grabs your hand and pulled you away from his aunt.

He pulled out a chair and sat you down quickly, you smiled shyly.

‘Why don't you guys come round for dinner tomorrow?’ Sophia suddenly asked.

Javi and his dad ignored her but you looked at her curiously. Javi put bacon on your plate blinked at you.

‘Javi, after Danny's wedding you didn't come to our house even once, you went to Colombia all of sudden. Please come round for dinner tomorrow night, Danny will be there with his wife too,’ she said as she clasped his hands together.

Javi rolled his eyes at her and then looked at you, taking your nod without speaking.

‘Okay, we'll be there,’ he said and shoved the whole piece of bacon in your mouth.

‘Eat up baby,’ he laughed at the look on your face.

‘Great, I have to go and tell Bruno right away,’ she said happily and kissed you on the cheek, almost made you choking on the bacon.

“You coming too Chucho?” she turned to him.

“You invite me for dinner? I'll be damned.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be so dramatic, hermano,” then she looked at you and Javi smiling. “See you tomorrow, cariños.”

She was mumbling something happily as she hurried off the porch.

‘Excuse my aunt,’ Javi said turning to you. ‘We won't go if you don't want us to.’

You swallowed the bacon and shook your head no. ‘No, we said we'd go, we have to go, they're your relatives.’

Javi smiled and nodded.

The next evening, while you were in the room getting ready for dinner, Javi opened the door and came in.

‘You don't need so much make-up, you're already so beautiful,’ he looking at you in the mirror.

‘Well I'm a bit nervous, if they don't like me-’

‘As if such a thing was possible,’ he leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms, watching you with a smile as you brushing your hair.

You turned your eyes to him, he was wearing a plaid shirt and jeans, his hair was combed as usual and the brown of his eyes was perfect as always. He was the one who didn't need prepare himself.

He was beautiful.

‘Why are you blushing,’ his hand caressed your cheek.

Am I?

Every time you looked at him you wondered how he could affect you as much as the first time you saw him. And how could you love him more and more every day, was such a thing even possible?

When he frowned and looked at you, you smiled to yourself, being with him, being in his life was priceless.

‘If you don't feel well, we should-’

You shut him by kissing him.

‘Let's go.’

It was evening when you arrived at Javi's aunt's house, not far away. She greeted you enthusiastically on the porch, her husband was just as excited. He was a man of medium height, a little overweight, very cheerful. Javi was holding your hand tightly as you entered the house, but his aunt overpowered him and grabbed you by shoulder and dragged you inside for a quick tour of the house.

Their house was bigger than Chucho's, two stories, with a large porch and wide garden.

With her son and daughter-in-law arrived, she invited you to the table. It was very elaborate, so much food, there were even some dishes you have never seen before.

“What a lovely house,” you said, smiling.

“Ah, thank you, is your home back in Colombia like this? I wonder what it's like,” she handed you a plate of salad.

“Yes, sort of,” you said, taking some on your plate, of course your house was bigger, but you had no intention of saying that.

“What city have you lived in Colombia?” this time her daughter-in-law asked.

“Cali.”

“Ah, Javi, you were stationed there too, right? How did you two meet anyway?”

Javi and you looked at each other, you knew this question was coming but never thought about how to answer it correctly.

“At the bar.”

You both surprised and smiled at each other.

“Aren't they lovely, darling?”

Her husband shook his head as yes so busy with eating meanwhile.

“What about your parents, have they come here too or did you-”

“For fucks sake,” Chucho grumbled. “Let the girl eat something. You invite her to eat or interrogate her?”

After dinner, when they were serving drinks, his aunt asked you about other things, but luckily you were able to handle it.

God, she asked a lot.

Eventually it got late, time to leave

"There's a wedding party at Friday night, downtown, will you be there?" she asked suddenly as you walking out the door with Javi. "It’s Enrique, Javi, you know him since childhood."

She said to Javi, but her eyes were on you.

"Well, if Javi wants to," you looked at his face, he was definitely reluctant but he didn't want to be nagged by his aunt.

"Well, we'll be there, I guess, thanks for inviting us tía," he said, grabs you by the shoulders and leading you away from his aunt with crooked smile.

"Great, everyone will be there, I can't wait to see their faces when they realize what a beautiful lady you are with," she giggled mischievously from behind you as you approaching the car.

The tone of her voice changed when she says that everyone but you didn't care. Maybe she meant that everyone will be staring at you so warns you to watch your back.

"I thought no one here would act like I’m the daughter of someone important," you said, pursing your lips, "I wanted to be ordinary, invisible."

Javi giggled. "It's impossible to be invisible with such beauty, hermosa."

He bent his head and kissed you, his father glancing in the rearview mirror and smirked, you flushed with shame.

----------- All episodes here --------------

#fanfiction #fanfic #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal gifs #narcos #pedro pascal #steve murphy #ao3 fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javier peña x reader

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velvetyh · 5 months ago

Text

⌜Everybody knows I'm a good girl, officer | E. Sohn⌝

꒰ PAIRING ꒱ Police officer!eric x fem!reader ꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ Meeting the police officer a few times and experiencing pent-up frustration at work can lead to something… exciting. ꒰ WORD COUNT ꒱ 3150 words (oops) ꒰ TW ꒱ 18+, car sex, a lot of cringe teasing and dirty talk, degrading praising pet names (good/pretty slut, etc), y/n calling eric “officer”, ass spanking, riding (lmk if I missed anything!) ꒰ NOTE ꒱ I am not dead (yet lol), I’m attempting to get over my blank page syndrome! I hope this will help… also an Audi RS3 is a super powerful, loud car (my dream car), just so you know 😉 ꒰ REQUESTED ꒱ no! (but tagging my lovely @shmooooo i hope it’s not too bad <3)

୧ ‑‑‑‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑

“Good morning, Officer,” you greeted with a smile as you got out of your vehicle parked not far from the police station to get to your work.

“Ma’am, can I ask you a question?” “Sure,” you turned around, looking in the man's eyes. He maintained eye contact for a few seconds before clearing his throat, shoving his hand into his uniform pocket. “You are the owner of this car, correct?” he asked as he pointed at your black Audi RS3, and you nodded, staring up at him. “Yes, why?” “It’s not the first time that I see it poorly parked, you should be careful. It might disturb the traffic and cause an accident, or someone could accidentally smash it if they’re not paying enough attention,” you obediently nodded again, offering him your best smile. “I promise to be careful next time. Have a good day, Officer!”

However next morning, you parked yourself the same way you did yesterday, the same police officer standing in front of the station. You got out of your car as if it were nothing, but you immediately bumped against a broad chest, recognising the same masculine fragrance as yesterday.

“Ma’am? What did I tell you yesterday? Your back tyres aren’t among the lines, and they’re almost hindering the traffic. Next time I catch you doing this I’m giving you a fine, understood?” “Yes, Officer Sohn,” you mumbled as his name tag was almost hitting your nose at your proximity. “Good.” You stared up at him for a few seconds and apologised again before he stepped aside, nodding again before walking away, going back to his spot in front of the police station.

You were doing this on purpose because he was hot, and the uniform didn’t help at all. You wanted to see how long you could play dumb until it went too far, but what could happen aside from a fine? Maybe something amazing? you considered.

“Ma’am, this time-“ “Yes, Officer, I know that I’m not parked inside the lines, I know. Have you seen the side of your parking spaces and my car? It just won’t fit, and I just can’t take public transport from where I live, it’s way too far from my workplace to function properly the rest of the day. So just give me a fine so I can just move on from this shitty day,” you snapped at the officer, whose eyes opened widely, and he took a step back, giving you space.

You sighed in annoyance and stared up at him, seeing him keeping a relaxed attitude somehow managed to calm you down a bit, which was something unexplainable.

“Rough morning?” he calmly asked, hand going to his talkie-walkie to quickly dismiss it as his colleague's voice started buzzing from it. “Yes, this morning's rough. I just want to go home to forget about everything,” you annoyingly said while looking at the traffic jam happening in front of you, the police officer looking at you with his hands on his hips. “Okay, this is the last time I let you run away with this, but I’m being very indulgent. But tomorrow when you arrive, you better park well, understood?” “Yes,” you sighed before walking inside the building without sparing a glance at the man you left on the sidewalk.

When you got out of work, you were mad at the world, ready to punch someone and yell out your frustration. You cursed the police officer under your breath as you saw a fine tucked in between your windscreen wipers as you approached your car, quickly entering it after ripping the paper from the wiper. You fastened the seatbelt and manoeuvred out of your parking space, flooring the accelerator pedal as the motor roared in the street you were in, drawing attention to you, but you couldn't care less. It felt like a bit of your frustration was gone by speeding, but it was too good to be true.

Going over the speed limit in front of the police station was not your smartest move. You whined, noticing blue and red lights in your rear-view mirrors when you entered the highway, pulling over as soon as possible, trying not to sink further into your crimes and misery. You felt like crying as you turned off the engine and pulled out your driving license alongside your car registration documents, rolling down the window as someone knocked on it.

“Ma’am, what a surprise! Seems like you and I see each other a lot those days,” He said as you wordlessly handed him your documents, looking straight ahead of you, jaw clenched to not break down in utter anger and despair in front of him.

He cleared his throat, “Y/N Y/L/N, what a pretty name. It’s such a shame that we didn’t meet in other circumstances, but with your bad parking, going over the speed limit on the national road and the highway, I’m afraid you might lose this,” he said, brandishing your driving license between his fingers.

“You know, Officer, I’m starting to think that you’re stalking me. I always seem to coincidentally land on you when I do something wrong,” you pettily spat, getting aggressive as you were about your lose your only way to go to work.

“Trust me, ma'am, you can call yourself lucky not to have met my superior yet. Captain Lee is not as lenient as I am. He’d give you a fine for everything that I’ve just stated, plus the non-validity of your license, for example. It expired a week ago.” He stated, opening your car door and taking your car keys, your eyes widening.

“Fuck, I forgot to make an appointment for this shit,” you rested your head against the headrest behind you and took your purse, getting out of your vehicle. "I'm going to need you to watch your language, ma'am," he smirked, as you huffed, slamming the car door behind you.

His hand hovered above your lower back, and he opened the tinted back door of the police car. As you sat down, you gave the officer puppy eyes but he chuckled and shook his head side to side, lifting the portable tray at the back of his seat to fill out a form.

“That won’t work with me, ma’am, even if it looks very tempting to not worsen your day even more.” You just shrug at his words, waiting for him to be done writing down all your infractions and give you that damn fine to go home. “It’s okay to be a bad girl sometimes though, it helps to get back on the right track,” he said as if he was chit-chatting with a friend about the most normal topic, his pen scribbling some details and ticking some cases on the paper. A smirk tugged on his lips as he saw your eyes widen in shock out of the corner of his eyes, not expecting the conversation to take this turn.

You gulped and folded your legs on top of the other, the tip of your heel almost touching his thigh, “what makes you say I’m a bad girl? I’m just a good girl with bad days, there’s a slight nuance,” you said, your foot eventually grazing against his leg.

He was quick to drop his pen and seized your bare calf, brown eyes boring into yours.

“Are you sure you want to play that game, Miss Y/L/N?” he asks, his voice getting deeper as you innocently smirked. “What game, Officer?” you answered back, the man standing in front of you. “Don’t try to act innocent. You and I both know exactly what you’re doing,” he grunted, and you moved your hair out of your eyes. “And? Do you like it?” you neared his face with yours with a smirk, your breaths mixing at your proximity. “Way more than I want to admit,” he grinned before grabbing the back of your neck to pull you in a languish kiss, your legs automatically wrapping around him. He pushed you backwards and closed the door behind him in a swift tug, his weight forcing you to lie down across the back seats.

The kiss was messy yet full of lust, your hand going in his hair to throw his cap and tug on the dark strands, a low grunt erupting from the back of his throat. When you pulled away out of breath, you brought your thumb to his lips to clean the stains of your lipstick on them, finding him even hotter at the sight of his reddened lips and lazy, lustful eyes.

He doesn’t waste a second and dives in your neck, leaving burning hickeys on your sensitive skin as he made his way down to your breasts.

He drew your blouse down, a few buttons ripping at his strength, and you gasped, undoing the buttons of his uniform as quickly as you could. He chuckled at your hastiness, eyes drawn to your white lacey bra.

“As sexy as it looks on you, I need that off,” he mumbled and you rested on your elbows, allowing you to reach behind you and unclasp your item of lingerie, throwing it at his face with a giggle.

“Oh god,” you mumbled as he immediately sucked on your breast, his free hand cupping your boob and flickering your other nipple.

“I know I’m a god, but today is Officer Sohn for you. Does that feel good darling?” he asked while trailing hot kisses down the valley of your breasts. You hummed in satisfaction, stroking his hair away from his face.

“So good, Officer,” you barely had to mutter before getting flipped on your stomach. You smirked as the police officer harshly spanked you before sitting in the middle seat, the action making you whimper as your bare nipples grazed against the rough leather seats.

He bunched up your pencil skirt up to your waist and sighed in pleasure as he discovered the matching panties, feeling the warm fabric and the plush skin of your ass. He gave it a spank, on the other cheek this time, followed by another, and another, making you whisper ‘yes Officer’ after each spank, mentioning all the laws you’ve broken, giving you a taste of how important they were with the intensity of his spank. It burnt too good, you couldn’t help getting wet at his ministrations.

“You like getting your little ass spanked, don’t you? I was right about you being a bad girl, you were just too shy and proud to admit it,” he whispered in your ear as one of his hands soothed the imprints of his palm on your ass cheeks, the other teasing and poking your already dripping hole through your ruined panties.

“O-Officer, more please,” you begged and whined, your core clenching at his teasing fingertip.

“You needy slut, look at how wet your pretty cunt is for me,” he smacked your ass harshly as those words escaped from his pretty lips, the sting slowly turning into pleasure making your eyes roll at the back of your head and moan.

His hands on your sides, he hoisted you on his lap while his mouth roamed around your neck, creating a chain of hickeys from one collarbone to the other.

He helped you grind your clothed core against the rough fabric of his uniform, looking up at you as your jaw fell agape, a fire starting in the pit of your stomach. Looking down, you teasingly smiled, angling yourself just right for your core to rub against the grip of his gun.

“Don’t play this game, pretty slut, you don’t know what I’m capable of,” he smirked as he undid his belt, soon helped by you, slipping your hand in his boxers to give his hard shaft slow, precise strokes.

"You're so hard, Officer," his head rolled back at your words, watching your spit drop from your pretty lips to his angry tip, a lust-laced smile decorating your lips turning into a moan as you aligned his cock with your entrance.

He wasn’t the thickest guy you’ve had sex with, but for sure was he the longest. Once he bottomed out inside you, he felt like he was poking your stomach, reaching so deep inside you that you could almost cum at how full you felt.

“Oh my, Y/N, you feel so good,” he mumbled, and you started rocking your hips against his, your clit getting friction thanks to the underwear he kept on.

“Oh you call me Y/N now-ngh!” you teased but immediately squealed as he slapped one of your breasts, the shock sending electricity throughout your entire body.

"Shut up and ride me like the good slut you are."

The car started rocking side to side as his hands were on your hips, having the upper hand on the tempo. He felt divine, and the adrenaline of doing it on the side of the road with someone from the authorities had you more sensitive than usual. He could feel you clench hard around his cock, but kept a steady rhythm, slightly ignoring your cries of pleasure getting louder and louder each second passing by.

"You're so fucking tight," he grunted before smacking your ass, the pleasure making you lurch forward in a yelp.

You looked so pretty on top of him, face scrunched in pleasure as your boobs bounced beautifully right in his face, your hands desperately trying to hold onto something as you couldn’t stop whispering his rank, which turned him on and fuelled his ego to the max.

He pulled you down by the back of your neck in a kiss, muting both of your moans and whines of pleasure as his dick was deliciously grazing against your tight walls, hitting the right spots at each thrust.

“Oh god, I’m cumming, fuck, Officer, shit, shit, shit, just like that! Shit!” you yelled as you collapsed on top of him because of the intensity of your orgasm, thighs shaking as he was still sharply thrusting his cock inside your core, helping you ride your high as you cried and shook in overstimulation.

Repeatedly clenching hard around him, your actions brought him right in front of his orgasm, low moans increasing in volume as he was so close to reaching his high.

“A-ah, fuck darling, get off!” he grunted as you collapsed on the seat next to him, just in time to let his seeds spurt out and land on your stomach in a chain of low grunts of your name, his fist pumping his shaft to empty himself fully on your body.

As you were catching your breath, head resting against the inner part of the door, the young officer softly smiled at you in post-coital bliss, bending himself to come and kiss your knees up to your inner thigh, his tongue giving a few licks to your slit as your thighs started trembling in overstimulation.

“I can’t let your juices stain the seats, even if I really want to,” he smirked as his tongue ran over his lips, tasting bits of yourself.

He got out a pack of tissues from the front seat and gently cleaned up his cum off your body, an apologetic look on his face as he didn’t have anything softer to remove his mess from your body.

You thanked him anyway and you both started to get dressed again, closing your blazer fully as your blouse was ruined. As you were about to reach for your panties, the officer was quick to catch them and shove them in his pants pocket.

“Those are coming home with me,” he smirked, and you rolled your eyes, tugging your pencil skirt down to hide your clammy core with a scoff. “You perv. You better buy me another pair, then. And another blouse,” you said as he fumbled with something behind his neck. "You really never learn. Calling me a perv is insulting behaviour towards an officer and could get you arrested and fined, you know that?" he opened your palm with a smirk and dropped something metallic inside, only to find his military necklace with his name engraved on it.

Eric Sohn.

“I know," your voice trailed as your eyes lingered on his torso as he was buttoning his shirt up, your arrogance making him shake his head. "So I’ll see you around?” you questioned with a smile and Eric was quick to kiss your neck as an answer, licking and sucking on the sweaty skin to tease you more. “If you’re free, we can go on a lunch date on Friday afternoon. Hopefully, you’ll be a good girl in the meantime,” he chuckled, and you pressed your lips on his, tongues dancing together. “I can’t promise you anything Officer, but I’ll try my best.”

Liar.

You exited the car like it was a normal thing and went back to yours, still in a trance and a bit of shock at what just happened.

One thing that you were sure of was that you were going to take your Friday afternoon off, no matter what your manager had to say.

Because with the teasing look Eric gave you, what you’ve just experienced was the starter.

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years ago

Text

still into you | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: sunday

summary: after returning home from new york, carmy has a surprise & a very important question for you.

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language.

word count: 4.3k

listen to: sympathy - the goo goo dolls | still into you (cover) - julia sheer | let's get married - bleachers | (playlist here)

a/n: this chapter has me screaming internally and externally. i'm not well. now who's ready for some early carmy x reader angst?! thank you to all who reblogged, commented, liked. i will keep writing and annoying everyone w my obsession for this man.

read: chapter three

Sunday

It’s early-Sunday morning by the time you arrive at JFK. You, Sydney, Marcus, and Carmy wait in the hellishly long Starbucks line because it’s the only fuckin’ thing available at the airport this morning.

Fuckin’ monopolies, you think to yourself, begrudgingly.

After ordering all at once, the four of you wait for your coffees. Your order isn’t the most unique – just a cafe au lait with oat milk, no sugar. The hard at work barista quickly makes their way through all four coffee orders, glad that they’re simple. As the order’s up, you watch the barista add the four cups – three hot, one iced – to the pick up station.

“Christ, I need this,” Sydney grumbles, her head throbbing from a few too many drinks the night before.

She’s exhausted from the weekend and knows she stayed out a little too late last night. This morning’s wake up call for the airport was less than pleasant, and she’s just glad that she can sleep on the plane.

“Someone’s hungover,” you chide playfully.

“Shut up,” she shoots back, earning a laugh from you.

You look down at your coffee cup, immediately noticing that the name on the coffee cup is not yours.

“Oh shit. I think I took the wrong coffee by accident,” you say, your face twisting a confused look.

Carmy’s eager to rush to your side, taking the coffee from you, “Huh. Looks like you got switched up with… some guy named Sam?”

He takes your cup of coffee, walking back over to the pick up station. There’s a man picking up a coffee cup with your name written on it in bold letters. Carmy chuckles realizing that you have almost the exact same order as this ‘Sam’ guy.

“Excuse me. I think my fiance accidentally took your coffee. Are you Sam?” Carmy asks, holding out the coffee cup to the stranger.

“Oh! I wondered why my extra double shot of espresso was missing from the-,” he starts, checking the label. “Yeah, this is it. Thanks for lookin’ out!”

Carmy gives the man a half smile, before jumping at the sound of Sydney’s voice, pitched louder and higher than normal.

“Carmen Berzatto, something you want to share with the class? Did you just say FIANCE!?” Sydney practically shrieks, garnering the attention of the long Starbucks line adjacent to where you stand.

“No fucking way!” Marcus exclaims, his voice booming as he grabs your left hand. “You guys are engaged?! Since when!!”

The four of you look around, noticing that your little outburst has earned an assortment of reactions from the various people in line. You’re blushing and Carmy’s face has turned a shade of pink that seems to spread all the way underneath the neckline of his white t-shirt. Suddenly, he feels overwhelmingly shy, as he focuses on not dropping either of your coffee cups.

“I’m so sorry. We did not mean to disturb or alarm-. You know… what you guys got goin’ on this morning,” Sydney apologizes, her eyes scanning the coffee line.

“But our best friends literally just got engaged!”

A few people in line are clapping, a few others turn to each other, whispering excitedly, while a few ‘congratulations’ are uttered in the direction of you and Carmy.

“Fiance, huh?” you ask, under your breath.

“Tryin’ it out,” he answers with a shrug.

You can tell it brings him more satisfaction than he’ll ever admit – getting to call you his fiance – and Carmy can’t wait to be out of the spotlight as he quickly ushers you, Syd, and Marcus away from the airport Starbucks. As you head towards your gate, Syd and Marcus continue the berating for not telling them sooner.

“So you guys were just gonna get engaged all privately and shit and not tell us?” Marcus teases. “Shit, man. That’s fucked up.”

“It just happened last night,” you defend yourself, before shooting Carmy a look. “And I didn’t know we were telling anyone yet.”

The blush that runs across his cheeks turns a shade darker, and you can tell that he’s completely and utterly embarrassed by all of this attention.

“But where’s the ring? I thought you-?!” Sydney exclaims, earning a strong glare from Carmy that says ‘stop talking right now.’

“This is why we didn’t say anything,” he grumbles, cutting her off so that she can’t say anymore. As Sydney realizes she’s almost spoiled the surprise, she’s quick to course correct by laughing it off.

“Ha! Yes, right, that’s uh-. Who needs a ring anyways?” she pivots, earning a laugh from you in response to her rather strange behavior.

“The ring’s… a secondhand thought at this point,” you placate them, making sure your casual tone communicates your lack of expectation.

Even though you feel like both Carmy and Sydney are being weird right now, you move right past it. You’ve never been one to need something physical to understand how much Carmy loves you. With your coffee in one hand, and Carmy’s hand in the other, you give him a reassuring squeeze.

Ring or no ring, you were going to marry the love of your life.

By the time you make it home, you’re exhausted and so grateful that you had the foresight to take tomorrow off. You knew you’d wanted an extra day to prepare for the week ahead and a day to spend with Carmy on his day off.

Carmy, your fiance.

You get butterflies just thinking about it.

After a long weekend of cooking, exploring – not to mention casually getting engaged – you’re ready to do fuckall for a day and a half before your work week starts. You figure out what you can push to tomorrow: grocery shopping, a few chores here and there. You find yourself curled up on the couch with Aioli, who seems like she’s genuinely missed you as she cuddles up to you. She bumps her soft head against your shoulder, before curling up into the sweetest little croissant next to you on the couch.

You flip through your phone, scrolling through some social media app as you hear a chaotic rustling sound coming from your bedroom. Seconds later, Carmy comes bursting back into the living room, phone in hand. He looks worried, prompting you to ask:

“Everything alright?”

“Ffffffffuck!” he exclaims, frustratedly. “Just got a text from Fak. Emergency at the restaurant, babe.”

“Shit,” you swear.

“I gotta take care of this,” he admits with a huff.

“Right now?” you ask, unable to hide your disappointment that after fifteen minutes of being home, he’s already rushing back to work.

He shoots you a remorseful look before saying, “Yeah.”

“Can’t leave for the fuckin’ weekend without something going to shit,” he mutters under his breath.

He knows he’s laying it on thick.

“Okay,” you resign yourself.

“Will you be home for dinner?”

“Think so,” he says, almost as a consolation. “I’ll shoot you a text when I work this shit out.”

You nod in understanding.

“I don’t have the energy to go to the store today. Thought I’d pick something up from the Thai place across the street we like,” you suggest.

“Sure,” he nods in agreement, urgently.

You know he’s in a hurry, noticing as his eyes flicker from you to the door, then back to his phone.

“Okay, last thing: I uh-, before you go,” you begin.

You watch as Carmy’s face softens. He knows how much you were looking forward to spending the afternoon with him. He only feels a little bad about the fact that he’s totally pulling one over on you.

“I’m gonna meet up with Natalie for a walk later. Are you… cool if I tell her?” you ask, checking in.

He waits a beat before nodding, “Uh. Yeah. She’ll probably kill me if we don’t.”

“Right, and, our friends kind of told an entire Starbucks line at an airport so…” you reply playfully.

He gives you a half smile and you can see he’s preoccupied with whatever emergency is happening at the restaurant.

“Okay, that’s all I have. Love you, Bear,” you say, letting him know he can go.

“Love you,” he replies, before leaving the softest goodbye kiss on your lips.

And he’s off, hurrying out of your apartment like a bat out of hell.

Only there’s no emergency at the restaurant.

He just needed an excuse to get out of the house and get the ring. Your ring. He’s been blowing Richie’s phone up all day, every chance he had. Every moment he thought you weren’t looking, he’d send a string of texts to Richie: asking him where he’d be, if he could grab it at home, bring it to the restaurant.

Carmy walks briskly towards The Bear. He wonders if his quick pace is a symptom of his nerves. Last night’s conversation had been so casual, and it’s not like you were going to change your mind. But there was something about doing it again – doing this properly – that made him feel antsy.

When he arrives at The Bear, he enters through the back of the restaurant, marching right into the kitchen. He knows that the staff on shift should be prepping for dinner service, ready to reopen for dinner within the hour.

“What’s goin’ on, Carmy? Thought you wouldn’t be in till Tuesday,” Angel says as soon as he sees Carmy.

“No, yeah, we just got back,” Carmy says back, sending Angel a half smile as a greeting. “Just uh, pickin’ up something from Richie.”

“He left for a few earlier, but… think he’s back? Think he’s out there,” Angel nods towards the front of house, before returning to what he was doing previously.

Carmy’s eyes scan the back of house before calling out, “Yo, cousin!”

Moments later, the taller, pure pain-in-the-ass of a man’s bursting through the double doors that lead to the dining area.

“There he is! The man that’s been blowin’ up my phone all day!” Richie shouts back, making his way into the kitchen. “Thought I’d have to get a restraining order, ya fuckin’ lizard.”

“Do you have it or what?” Carmy snaps, getting right to the point.

“Hello to you too, Carmen,” Richie replies.

Carmy rolls his eyes as Richie glares at him.

Richie’s face falls with a sigh. He’s not going to give his cousin a hard time – not today.

“Yeah, ‘course I do,” Richie says, pulling the small box he’s been holding onto all weekend out of his pocket.

“Jeff! How was New York, baby?” Tina asks, as she approaches the both of them. Her eyes widen as soon as she sees what Richie’s holding.

“Oh shit.”

“Right?” Richie exclaims, with a rousing laugh. “Carmen’s finally lockin’ it down, T! Just like ya told him.”

“Watcha guys lookin’ at? Hey! Welcome back, Bear!” Fak greets, interrupting the conversation by joining in.

“This son of a bitch is about to be the luckiest man alive. Can’t believe the broad hasn’t left your ass yet,” Richie says, encouraging Carmen in the only way he knows how to.

“Ooh let me see,” Fak says, reaching out to grab the ring box.

Fak opens the box, seeing the shiny engagement ring, his eyes widening as soon as he realizes what’s going on.

“Wow, Bear. You think she’ll say yes?” Fak asks, excitedly, as he hands the box back to Carmy.

Tina glares at him while Richie shouts something along the lines of, “You really wanna put that in his fuckin’ head, you fuckin’ stroke?”

“First of all, I’m not a fuckin’ stroke. And second of all-!” Fak shrugs.

“Uh, first of all. You are. And second of all, of course she’s gonna say yes you fuckin’ waste of space,” Richie interjects, protectively shutting any notion that you’d say ‘no’ down.

“Very nice, Jeff,” Tina compliments, admiring the ring. She exchanges glances with Carmy. “Very nice. I think she’s really gonna like that.”

Carmy smiles at the sound of Tina’s approval. As much as he’d like to take credit for picking out a beautiful engagement ring all by himself, he’d asked Sugar to go with him a few weeks ago. She’d been surprised he asked in the first place, but he’d wanted to get it right, and knew he’d want a second opinion. It wasn’t till Sydney caught wind of his plans that she insisted she join in, adding a third opinion to the mix.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t been a ‘too many cooks in the kitchen’ scenario – both his sister and his work-wife acting as his biggest cheerleaders.

“Alright you fuckin’ replicants. Let’s get back to work,” Richie orders, shooing Tina and, especially Fak, away.

He makes sure no one else is listening before he leans in, patting Carmy on the back a few times while he says:

“You got yourself a good thing. Proud of you..”

“Thank you, cuz,” Carmy replies, with a shake of his head. “And thanks. For holding onto this for me.

Richie starts to back away, pointing a finger at Carmy, “Don’t fuck it up.”

Carmy shakes his head.

He’s really going to try not to.

While Carmy makes a quick trip to the grocery store before heading home to set up his surprise for you, you’re across town with Natalie. Not a bad alternative, you think to yourself. You’ve picked up a coffee for you, and a matcha latte for her, as the two of you wander alongside the River Walk.

“I’m dying for a cup of coffee,” she whines, dissatisfied with the grassy green liquid in her cup. “This whole tea thing really isn't doing it for me and I can’t decide if I like or hate matcha so I just keep drinking them to see.”

“Yeah I-, I do not envy you. While I do really enjoy matcha, no amount of matcha lattes will ever hit like coffee,” you commiserate with your soon-to-be sister in law. “How’ve you been feeling?”

“Like garbage,” she exhales an exasperated sigh, woefully. “Don’t get me wrong. Pete and I have been trying to get pregnant for a while now, and I’m so happy…!”

“But I’m also exhausted and my boobs feel huge,” Sugar continues, and you can hear how tired she is in her voice. “The whole first trimester, I don’t think I slept through the night and I spent every single morning just emptying any contents of my stomach into the toilet. My clothes are starting to fit differently which is… well, it is what it is… and on top of it all, I’m seriously craving the strangest things.”

You chuckle, “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“Yeah it’s… it’s super weird. But enough about me and my swollen boobs…” she agrees. “How was New York? I saw some of the pictures on your instagram… it looks like you guys had a great time!”

It’s the perfect segway for you to tell her the news, so you take a sip of your coffee, suddenly feeling a little nervous and also excited to tell her.

“Yeah, so uh, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” you start, some of the nerves trickling into the way your voice sounds.

“Oh god. What’d he do?” Sugar asks back, instantly.

You laugh, quick to reassure her, “No, it’s not like that! New York was… really great.”

You take a beat before continuing.

“It was kinda weird too. I think… just because we have so many memories there, yknow?” you begin, a small hesitancy in your voice that Natalie instantly detects. She listens as you both continue your walk, coffee cups in hand. “And I think it made us both think… about what we want… from our relationship…”

“Okay…” she trails off, her ears practically perking up as soon as she knows where this conversation could be going.

You stop your walk, turning to face her.

“And we talked… and… decided that….”

“Carmy and I… are getting married,” you say, unsure of how you’re so cool and level-headed as you say it.

“Shut up!” she exclaims, grabbing for your left hand almost instantly.

“We’re not-, we don’t have a ring yet,” you’re quick to explain, as she shoots you a look. Her eyes flicker from your ring finger, then back to your face. She knows he has the ring, and the fact that you’re not wearing it right now means he didn’t bring it to New York with him.

She’ll let him off the hook. Just this once.

“That soft shitty bitch,” she sighs, with an eye roll. “I could kill him for not doing it for real but… I know it’s your style.”

“Right.”

“Oh my god! You and Carmy are getting married!!” she squeals. This may be the best news she’s gotten since she and Pete found out they were pregnant. “I mean. Took him long enough.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Sounds like we’re finally gonna be sisters-in-law.”

“Finally!” she repeats with a laugh.

You spend a little more time with Nat at the River Walk, before the both of you stop to get a snack. Sugar’s totally honest with how strange her cravings have been as you stop at a convenience store for pickle chips, a pop, and a pack of twizzlers. You decide to try her very strange combination of snacks, just to hold you over before dinner.

As you make your way home, you notice that the days are getting longer. The sun is still high in the sky and it reminds you that summer is almost here. It’s wild to think about. Your trip to New York hadn’t just gotten into Carmy’s head. It’s had you in yours too. It’s strange to think that, this time three years ago, Carmy was but a painful memory: your best friend who’d just left town, your best friend who couldn’t bother to call you back, your best friend who had broken your heart because maybe, just maybe, you were in love with him.

And now, thanks to a one week trip to Chicago that set it all in motion, you’re marrying him.

You thank your lucky stars that he managed to work up the nerve to call you that Fall – that he managed to swallow his pride and ask you to come help out with this new restaurant he was working on.

You take the long way home, enjoying your own company too much. You figure you’ll take a shower when you get home, change into your comfiest clothes, then head across the street to order dinner before Carmy gets home. You hadn’t heard from yet, which only told you that the emergency at the restaurant was most likely a big one. You expect for him to be gone most of the night, crawling into bed while you’re half asleep after scarfing down reheated leftovers. You weigh your options – how you’d like to spend the night by yourself:

Trash TV. Snuggling up with Aioli. Maybe even doing a load of laundry.

As you turn your key in the door, you hear a clamoring of pots and pans.

But Carmy hadn’t texted you.

He wasn’t home already, was he?

You push the door open, pulling your keys out of the door, before placing them into the dish that sits on the end table right by the front door.

“Carm?” you question, as you hear movement in the apartment.

You can smell the scent of boiling water, cured pork, and soon enough, you spot one of your clear, glass bowls filled with a tomato passata. The sight stops you in your tracks. He’s got his french-laundry-blue apron on, because, of course, he’d wanted some for the house too. You watch as he moves around the kitchen, his attention focused on chopping up half of a red onion. Carmy must’ve lit every single candle that he could find in the apartment and scattered them around your living space before you’d gotten here.

Aioli seems transfixed by the revolutions of the vinyl Carmy’s put on as the record, perched on the windowsill next to your record player. The turntable slows to a halt, signaling that it’s time to flip it over.

You’re speechless.

“Carmy, what’s going on?” you ask, looking around the room.

“Babe, can you flip the record over?” he asks, motioning towards the windowsill.

“Uh…” you manage to get out, setting your bag down by the entryway. You make your way over to alcove, moving the needle back to its place, before flipping over the record. As you glide the needle back onto Side B, the sounds of Louis Armstrong boom throughout your living room.

“I thought-, what happened at the restaurant?” you stammer through, watching him in your open kitchen. “I hadn’t heard from you I just thought-.”

But you don’t have the words, feeling caught off guard, because whatever’s happening in your apartment right now feels big.

Carmy reaches a stopping point, setting his knife down, and making his way to the sink to wash his hands. He’s not going to propose to you (again) while his hands smell like onions. Your eyes are glued to him as he removes his apron, before setting it down on the counter.

“Surprise?” he says, almost apologetically.

“Oh,” you say back, as if you’ve forgotten the entire English language.

You’re not sure why tonight feels big, but it does. Maybe it’s because you got engaged last night.

Yeah, maybe it’s that.

But Carmy’s not one to make a big romantic gesture, so you’re not sure what’s going on.

“Good ‘oh?’” he asks, his eyes wide as he stares at you.

“Uh. Yeah,” you say, your words finally coming back to you. “I thought you weren’t going to be home till late. I-, I hadn’t heard from you so I guess I wasn’t expecting you to be home.”

He smiles sheepishly.

“There wasn’t actually an emergency at the restaurant,” he states, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

He’s not sure why he’s nervous. He’d asked you last night and you’d said yes.

But nonetheless, this feels different.

“Oh,” you repeat.

At this point, you’re not sure you’re supposed to be saying anything, so you wait. You examine the face of your very nervous boyfriend – fiance – as he looks down at the floor, his hands fumbling for something in his pocket.

“You’re my best friend and the love of my life,” he starts, and he hopes you can’t hear that his voice is shaking. “And I-, well, I wanna do this for real.”

Carmy pulls a small box out of his pocket.

“Woah,” you say, your eyes widening as soon as you see it. .

“I know you already said yes, but… I didn’t have this with me. So,” he continues, his face red as he drops to one knee.

“Holy shit, Carmy.”

You swallow because the way that he looks at you takes your breath away.

“Marry me?”

You can’t help it as tears spring to your eyes. He opens the ring box, and you gasp, seeing the most ‘you’ ring possible. This feels so different than his ask last night, and both proposals feel equally true to both your relationship. You reach for him, pulling him back up to you as you say:

“Yes, Carmen. And yes, again. Let’s fucking get married.”

And Carmy’s leaping to his feet, pulling you into the warmest, passionate embrace. You pull away, just far enough to grab his head and kiss him, pressing your lips to his even through your smiles and giggles.

“Thank God,” he sighs, causing you to laugh as you pull away from him.

“Did you think I’d say no after I said ‘yes’ last night?” you ask with a laugh.

He shakes his head, looking at the floor, “It just feels more real with the ring, you know? Speaking of.”

And finally, he pulls the ring out of the box he holds in his hands. With your hand in his, he slides the delicate engagement ring on your ring finger, and you shake your head in total disbelief.

“Carmy this is beautiful. Did you pick this out yourself?” you ask, holding out your hand to admire the ring.

“I… had some help. Syd and Sugar actually…,”

You nod in response. Of course Sydney and Natalie had helped. And it explains the weird comments all day long about him not having a ring.

“You did good, babe. So good,” you compliment, admiring the ring that sits so perfectly on your ring finger.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Oh yeah,” you reassure him, grinning ear to ear.

And finally, he leans in and kisses you, crashing his lips against yours. It’s then that you realize how nervous he is, his face hot with excitement. His lips move against yours, leaving a few long, passionate kisses before he pulls away slowly. His forehead is pressed against yours as he whispers:

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Taking a more playful approach you giggle:

“And I can’t wait to be Mrs. Carmen Berzatto.”

“Shut up,” he smirks.

“You love it,” you say back.

“I do,” he declares. “I love you.”

Carmy sits you down, and you watch as he makes you an amatriciana. You know that food is the way he shows you love – the way he knows how to communicate. You’re practically blushing as you watch him create the sauce for the pasta, your eyes admiring your very hot fiance, and the stunning ring he’s just put on your finger. He smiles to himself, hearing you type away on your phone as he moves around the kitchen. You’ve, of course, gotta spread the word and let Sydney and Sugar know that you’re grateful for their help.

As Carmy continues to make dinner, you find a good place to pause your ‘we just got engaged’ PR campaign. You turn your phone ‘do not disturb’ so that you can focus on just being here with him. It’s then that it dawns on you: you get to watch him do this for the rest of your life. Carmy, your best friend, with all of his little neuroses, all of his quirky tattoos, those brilliant blue eyes of his, and his tender heart that you’d protect at all costs… he’s yours forever.

And you, his.

And you think to yourself, that maybe, this was always how it was supposed to be.

fin.

a/n: while the story is done, there is a lovely bonus smut scene called 'it's perfect, chef' that picks up right where this chapter left off.

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #make my heart surrender #still into you

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yuzukult · 2 years ago

Text

crush 01 | jww & oc/reader

title: crush 01 / part of the attacca series pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader/oc (ft. seokmin) rating: 16+ (for this chapter) genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, racecar driver!au, mechanic!au wc: 7.6k summary: all he knows are fast rides, drag-strips, and speed ovals until he meets you, someone that’s got his heart racing instead of his car. warnings: explicit language, smoking, suggestive content (but nothing follows through) a/n: !! sighs i know im back with another mechanic!au but !! hear me out, there’s racing involved okay !! i hope you guys enjoy this (and no i did not neglect my other series!! this just has been something i’ve been working on forever, so i hope you all like this :) -- and yes, i switched this from a one-shot to a series bc it was killing me how long i was holding it hostage !!

comment if you’d like to be included in the future taglist :) i’m starting fresh bc i felt bad for how long i’ve kept this lol

Nose twitching, you cross your arms over your chest with a thermos in hand, housing your favorite coffee—the Folgers’ classic roast instant coffee crystals that melt the moment it meets with boiling hot water because you can’t be bothered to wait for the coffee machine to brew the grinds. Normally, you’d be able to smell the freshness of the caffeine, but instead, you’re met with the aroma of burnt rubber on the asphalt wafting underneath your nose. Of course, you shouldn’t have expected anything else—this only ever happens at the track.

To be quite fair, you should’ve been used to all of this by now. The zooming of the cars when they make laps around the track, the whiff of the smoke that spits out of the exhaust, and the crisp clicking that the high-powered impact wrench makes when it’s changing the four tires on the cars at a pit box. And yet, every time you’re here, it feels like an entirely new experience.

Truthfully, you don’t know if you love it here. There’s always too much going on during the races; the chaos on the track, the abundance of people at the bleachers who watch attentively with their favorites in mind, the hollering and screaming, occasional fight breakouts, and the obsession with the cars themselves is too much to handle. You already have a lot going on in your day job—why are you even here?

Oh, right. Because that driver over there—the one with the chestnut color hair, beaming bright smile, and contagious laugh with that cute little beauty mark on his cheek—is your best friend. The one that you might be head over heels for since the beginning of time.

It’s a bit dramatic to introduce him like that, but it’s the only way your heart sees him. Helmet tucked underneath his arm, his loud yet saccharine guffaw fills the air as he exchanges words with one of his crew mates. You don’t know what that’s all about, but what you know is that he asked you to be here, claiming that you’re his ‘good luck charm’ of some sorts.

Whether or not that’s true, you’re still present.

Although you’ve voiced your feelings a handful of times, Lee Seokmin has made it clear: relationships aren’t his priority at the moment—his dreams are.

But, you remain by his side while wearing a blissfully oblivious mask, pretending like you don’t know about his late night escapades where he meets women at the track and takes them out for drinks before inviting them back to his hotel room. Clubs, afterparties, celebrations, tailgates—he’s encountered them through it all, but the only one he hasn’t brought back is you.

Mostly because he ‘treasures’ your relationship too much. You’re the type of person he’d take home to his mom, he says, not to a shoddy motel room right off the highway next to that gas station with the flickering vacancy sign.

And if this was someone else sharing their story, you would’ve told them to lose the guy and find someone worthwhile, someone who wouldn’t take their time for granted, and someone who would love them the way they deserved to be loved.

Unfortunately, this was you you were talking about here, and the only thing you are is delusional and clueless. (You can admit that much).

You choose to turn a blind eye when Seokmin is stumbling out of a club, shirt unbuttoned down to his chest, hooded gaze and slurring words with a girl underneath his arm with her skirt hitched nearly up to her upper thigh, breasts almost falling out of the cups of her top. Because even though he’s bringing her to his bed tonight, you hoped he’d eventually be ready to bring you to your shared forever home one day.

You want to be his everything, his endgame—so if this is what it takes to get there, you’d suffer a little.

(Sounds pathetic, you don’t need another reminder).

“You did good.” You grin, calling out to Seokmin who turns his attention to you. It seems like his smile gets wider at the sight of you walking down to where he’s stationed, wearing that sweatshirt he gave you last autumn with his car sewn in the pocket area and his name in the back.

“You probably didn’t know what you were watching,” he chuckles, handing off his helmet over to a teammate. Sometimes, you wondered if Seokmin knew their names without checking what’s sewn into their suits. “You just sit in the stands and watch me diligently. Do that thing where you furrow your brows like you’re concentrating.”

You mimic the description by scrunching up your face. “I’m not even a fan of racing, you asked me to come here.”

He pats your head affectionately. “I know. And I’m thankful for that.”

Your heart swells. It didn’t help that Seokmin was always like this, and because of that, he made it harder for you if you ever wanted to detach from him. He lures you in effortlessly, like you’re afflicted from the aftermath of a love potion but it’s all because of that charming smile that he shoots your way and not because you were shot by Cupid’s arrow itself.

Seokmin clears his throat, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his racing overalls. He looks good like this; the white compliments him and brightens his face—not that he needs it but it compliments him. “Listen… I know you seem to always have the latest scoop on people…”

“I don’t, but go on.” Totally a lie, the last dinner you had with your friends was entirely a gossip session–but that’s besides the point.

“Have you ever heard of some guy by the name of Jeon Wonwoo?”

With a slight tilt of your head, you blink blankly. It’s not familiar, mostly because you don’t know the person yourself but also since the name hasn’t been brought up at any tea spilling outing. But from the tone of Seokmin’s voice, you’re almost tempted to do your own digging. “Jeon… Wonwoo… no, can’t say that rings a bell. What’s up?”

Seokmin waves you off, clicking his tongue after. “Some street racer. Said he was gonna come in here and start racing professionally. Can you believe that?” he scoffs in disbelief. “Doin’ it illegally then suddenly you want it as a career.”

You shrug. “I mean, everyone starts off somewhere. His start might’ve not been ideal, but at least he’s trying to make things right.”

For a moment, it’s hard to read the expression on Seokmin’s face. There’s a hint of annoyance, you manage to make out, but before he lets you analyze any further, it contorts into an adoring one as he leans over to ruffle your hair. Why does he purposely continue to tug on your heartstrings like this? It makes you feel like a middle school girl crushing on a boy in her class.

Are you really this whipped?

“You’re always looking for the good in people. Sweet, but street racers are assholes. If you ever meet one,” he states warily, but there’s a playful inflection embedded in his words, “don’t trust them. They’re bad news.”

But when he says that, you can’t help but get a flashback of all the times he’s hit on girls for a one night stand… in front of you, despite knowing your feelings for him. Or those times he’s led you on, had you on your toes, thinking that you’d be the next in line for his heart, but instead you find yourself here, as an equivalent to a four leaf clover, a rabbit’s foot or even a horseshoe for his tournaments.

Street racers aren’t the only bad people.

“Hey!”

Flinching, the two of you jolt your attention to the voice, and you spot a little Lee Chan in his matching porcelain white racing overalls as Seokmin—from the biggest to smallest companies out there, brands decorated Seokmin’s, and even though Chan only had two logos on his, he looked like the mini version of your best friend.

He grins cheekily, pointing to the one out of two brands on his clothes. ‘FIC’ in a red square with writing in brown is woven instead of some cheap iron-on patch right above his heart, and you let out a little laugh. “Your logo came!”

“Looks good, Channie.”

Seokmin furrows his brows. “The fuck is a FIC?”

You wave your navy blue thermos in his face before patting Chan’s back.

“Folgers’ Instant Coffee,” you both say in unison and Seokmin only shakes his head.

“Isn’t that copyright infringement?”

The two of you shrug in unison.

To Chan, Seokmin was a mentor. He had become everything Chan aspired to be—on the racetrack, that is, and getting to be this up and close to him was a dream come true. Seokmin is barely pushing twenty-five and he’s already won so many tournaments; trophies lined up the shelves back at his childhood house, providing nothing other than proving his mother wrong when she’d used to say ‘study, driving won’t get you anywhere in life!’ All this while bringing her home an abundance of gifts because there’s nothing better than refuting your mother’s expectations by exceeding them.

“Well,” Seokmin begins, tossing the driving gloves that one of his crew mates catches. “You’re gonna need a whole lot more sponsorship offers if you wanna upgrade your car. You can’t be riding that piece of shit on our track. Ruins the asphalt.”

“He could always drive my car.”

“Nobody wants your little ass 2004 Toyota Camry on our track,” he jokes, but you can sense the expression of Chan’s face dropping in your peripheral vision. “Chan needs a real car to make it.”

Chan juts out his bottom lip. “Those street racers—they always mod their cars and they still go super fast. Can’t we figure something out? Some people make it into the big leagues from working on their cars themselves and—”

“You can’t drive on the track with a mod, it’s gotta be a stock car,” Seokmin lets out a huge, frustrated sigh. “And can we cut the crap about those idiot street racers? They’re so fucking stupid, they can’t even figure out how to get into the main track, so they substitute it by racing illegally. Stop taking tips from those assholes. Just makes you one of ‘em.”

There he goes again. What’s his deal? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your best friend’s temper has shortened, and the tips of his ears were growing red each time the topic of those street racers would come up. And who the fuck was Wonwoo?

“Hey, you alright? You seem tense.” It’s only Friday, and although competitions happen on Saturdays, Seokmin doesn’t usually get nervous. But the way his fists clenched at his side is a different look on him. “You seem off.”

“Jeon Wonwoo is racing tomorrow,” he announces grimly, and even though you don’t know what that entails, the look of surprise and concern that washes over Chan’s face alludes to what it could mean.

“But—what—huh? How? And that’s so—oh my god, you’re gonna go up against one of the best street racers in our region. Or world, even,” Chan’s mouth won’t close and his eyes are practically bulging outside of its pockets. “What are you gonna do, Seok?”

“There’s no tier in street racing,” Seokmin scoffs, arms crossing over his chest in pride. “And I’m gonna bring the best to the table, that’s what. I’m not losing to a mediocre street racer.”

Didn’t he just say there wasn’t a tier for street racing?

You’ve spent a decent amount of time with Seokmin, and what’s strange about him today is that he looks… not as confident as he sounds. The words he says exudes the certainty he has for winning, but take that away and it’s been a blanket for his insecurity.

Was Lee Seokmin actually afraid of competing tomorrow? And if he was, why was this Wonwoo guy bugging him so much? Who was he? It didn’t help that your probing isn’t getting you anywhere.

“Coming tomorrow?” Seokmin asks you, but his eyes are elsewhere. Sneaking a glance, you notice his gaze is on one of the flag girls that you recalled from a race a couple weeks back. Black hair long enough to reach her ass, nose so pointy that it peeks through the clouds, and teeth so fucking white that it could blind you, she’s already bouncing her way to you three.

“Mm, yeah,” you respond as coolly as possible. Part of you wants him to remember how calm you were whenever he was pursuing other girls when he could’ve been after you. He’d rather have a girl like that in lieu of you. A cool girl. Well, sorta. You’re just chillin’… vibin’… going with the flow… patiently waiting for–who are you kidding? Why the fuck isn’t he yours yet? “As promised. Your lucky charm.” The words look sweet on paper, but they spill through your gritted teeth.

“Great.” He pats your shoulder. “Imma hang out with Chaeri. See you tomorrow?”

“Hah,” you let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah, yeah, tomorrow.”

You are, and will be forever, a hopeless romantic. Especially for Lee Seokmin.

As you watch him jog toward yet another pretty girl, Chan looks at you sympathetically. Geez, are you that pitiful? “Why do you keep waiting around for him?”

“I’m not.” Already, the mouthpiece of your thermos is at your lips.

“You should really consider going out and dating,” Chan suggests, watching as you do your best to avoid the topic by turning your head. “And I know you hate hearing it, but it’s really not worth it. I admire him as a driver, but as a boyfriend— let’s just say I don’t think Seok is going to change any time soon when it comes to his dating life. Maybe it’s better off finding another guy who would actually appreciate you coming to events like these. You don’t even like racing.”

“I… I like racing.” You don’t sound convincing, and the look on Chan’s face only confirms that he doesn’t believe you either.

You know Chan is right. Despite being younger, he’s got a lot of knowledge and words of wisdom to share – still doesn’t mean you want to listen though because you’re hard-headed and there’s a portion of you that’s a bit lovesick. There’s a dream that one day, Seokmin will realize that the person that was made for him was right beside him all along.

His best friend.

You.

But here you are, watching from the distance, him groping some chick’s ass on the side of a racetrack, ready to take her out for another day of fucking around.

Why do you insist on torturing yourself? You need to mentally smack yourself for not detaching your eyes from this very heart twisting scene.

“Fine,” you concede, shoulders dropping along with your efforts for that brief second. “Let’s go to a bar or something tonight. Pick me up? Then you can be my wingman.”

Chan’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “Great, I’m excited. We’ll find you someone with 8-pack abs, a sweet looking face, and a great personality.”

How do you tell Chan that finding someone with all the characteristics he described is pretty much impossible? For one, does he think someone with 8-pack abs and a sweet looking face could ever have a great personality? You swore the past couple guys you met on that dating site that your friends force you to hop on were exactly that—the type of attractive that had drool spilling from the corner of your lips that actually makes your head go blank until the morning after when you find yourself in their sheets and they still can’t tell you what 8 times 3 equals. How many times did you have to tell your friends that just because some of them found love online, it didn’t mean that you would too?

Nonetheless, the whole description of those men doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with a ‘great personality’ per say, but that adds onto it. If a guy can’t even do simple math or have any common sense, what good does having a nice personality do anyways?

You feel like you should give up. What the hell was Lee Chan thinking?

Puffing out a heavy sigh, you find your way through the crowd of people for that spot to lean against the wall. You’ll have to give him another list of reasons why this night cannot repeat itself, and you refuse to go on this dating venture that he wants you on. The bar he’s invited you to is packed—from the crowds that are hollering over the pool tables to the waves of people that frequent the counter, too awkward to stand elsewhere. The air was getting thick, so you opted to loiter at that spot by some old jukebox that’s probably been out of service since the year you were born.

From there, you spot Chan by the billiards table, cue sticks in hand with the cheekiest smile on his stupid face.

That’s when you spot the girl.

She’s got these cute baby blue jeans, white shirt with balloon sleeves, and cream chunky sneakers that make her even more adorable. As she shuffles over to lean over the table, she closes an eye in concentration, and with her stick, she does a quick push to hit the white ball. And she misses.

Chan releases the most melodious laugh, one saturated in nothing but elation at the sight of the girl who pouts and shoves him but the impact doesn’t do much to him. Pulling her close by her waist, he presses a gentle kiss onto the crown of her head.

Even that corny dork found love. You remember him talking about this girl he’s been dating since high school, Kyungmi, and how he’d been crushing on her since he saw her play at her soccer match. Granted, she slipped and fell onto the muddy field because she didn’t tie her shoelaces, her pants stained brown and he lent her his hoodie for her to wrap around her waist. Since then, they’ve been inseparable.

Why couldn’t you and Seokmin be like that?

Instead, he chooses to be a fucking ass.

Another weighted breath surrenders from your lungs as your shoulders slouches even further. The ice floating atop the margarita is thinning, a layer of water amassing above the alcoholic beverage. The loveseat is what it’s called; a strawberry lemonade margarita, the saccharine juices of both artificial fruit and a slice of the actual strawberry plopped in, it’s a combination of how you were starting to see love as. Seemingly naturally sweet, you eventually learn from the clumps of syrup at the bottom that it’s not as authentic as you used to think it was from the half cut berry that's saturated with liquor.

You take a sip of the watered down cocktail. So much for us, Lee Seokmin. Nose scrunching up, you’re debating if it’s from the thought of him or the tartness of the citrus.

Waiting for Seokmin was starting to become embarrassing. A hopeless romantic is a nickname you never thought you’d find yourself possessing, one that sounds good on the pages of a fairytale or on a screen of a romcom but in reality, it’s naive to be in an unrequited love. The words that leave his lips are nothing but just that—the dialogue of a screenplay meant for a melodrama and not the genuine feelings he inhabits. These types of plots were only interesting in a form of entertainment–not the realities of life.

Maybe you should fuck around. Why are you wasting time anyways? If Seokmin gets to, you should too.

Oh. Right.

After the fourth guy that tried offering to buy you a drink at the bar, you realize how despairing the dating scene is. It’s not for you—well, it’s particularly due to the fact that you’re at some hippie bar downtown; beanies on beanies on plaid and plaid and plaid… it’s not even that cold yet for autumn, what’s with these people with no variety in their closets?

But that’s not to mention that you get attached too fucking quickly.

Your high school love? What was his name again? Just kidding—of course you remember his name, you doodled it all over the pages of your notebook with hearts all around it. Kwon Soonyoung. He dyed his hair a sunflower blonde and spiked it up once he figured out how to use the machines at the gym. Fawning over him was an understatement; you were one of the girls that sat tables away at the lunchroom, chin resting on the palm of your hand with a longing sigh. How could a jock like him ever notice a simple girl like you?

And how did you fall for him in the first place?

Home room, 6:28am, just 2 minutes away from the bell. You dropped your pencil on the floor, ready to snatch it up but Soonyoung was faster. He handed it off to you, fingertips brushing against yours as he showcased that pearly white teeth of his. Then in the candied voice, he said, “yours?” followed by, “your lashes are pretty.”

You were smitten within seconds.

So, yeah. This whole fuck around thing wasn’t in the cards for you, which meant dating is a lot more of a serious topic than Seokmin sees it.

Maybe you’ll keep giving it a shot.

Then there’s this guy. Man. Gentleman? His name is Eunwoo (or something, that’s what you hear over the loud bass booming through the speakers above you… suddenly you’re wishing the jukebox worked), he’s a mechanic and he loves fixing up old cars. You propose the idea of working on your old beast and he let out a chuckle, shaking his head with a lovely smile before saying, “I don’t normally do personal favors but… only if you really want me to.” He approaches you with an interesting greeting, in verbatim, “you look like you’re here against your will. Would you kill me if I used a sleazy pick-up line to ask if I could get a shot to make it better?”

Usually, you’d say no. But… you honestly are kind of bored and how much more disappointed could you get? It already feels like the rock bottom of the dating pool anyways.

But, luckily enough, you’re proven wrong. He’s different—a good kind of different. Eunwoo shares about how didn’t go to college, deciding that opening his own shop and utilizing the experience he had during high school working underneath cars would be more beneficial than a degree in bullshit. And he doesn’t ask if you want another drink—the half drunken margarita with condensation dripping from the sides is enough to give away that you’re done with it for the night. A man with manners, great observation skills and boundaries? Wow, can someone sign you up? (You don’t know if you really mean that).

When a couple of wasted boys start yelling at each other, Eunwoo does this thing where his hand hovers over your back as he leans in just barely, respecting your space and asks, “Wanna move this over there?” with his head gesturing in a direction away from the ruckus.

Fuck. He’s… sweet.

But you can’t fucking help comparing him to Lee Seokmin.

Good or bad, you’re not entirely sure. What you do know is that Seokmin… doesn’t look at you in the same way that Eunwoo does. He’s intrigued, and the swirls of coffee cups for eyes he has is sodden with adoration. When you talk about your job, Eunwoo asks questions that range from ‘What is it that you exactly do?’ to ‘Is this your passion?’ He shows genuine interest, not even realizing that his shoulder is sore from leaning on the jukebox too long that when he shifts in his position, his arm cracks multiple times.

“Should we get outta here?” he asks, slipping the old silver Zippo lighter from his pocket as the two of you slip out of the bar. He pops a cigarette between those pretty lips, a clink sound when he flicks open the cap and the wick heats up the bud. “You’ll see that car of mine that I told ‘ya about and we can stop by that diner five minutes out.”

A 2008 Spicy Red KIA Sorento.

“For a car guy, I wasn’t really expecting… a simple KIA.”

He laughs; it’s gentle and kind, just like his eyes, and he unlocks the doors with a click of a button on the fob. “It’s a friend’s car. He wanted me to check on some stuff. Just driving it around to see if I can hear that funny rattling sound he’s talking about.”

“Hmm,” you hum in amusement, stopping in your tracks when the two of you approach his car. “Then what do you drive?”

Eunwoo turns to you with a soft chuckle. “A Toyota Prius.”

“I don’t usually get into guys’ cars that I just met,” you confess, and Eunwoo’s smile widens even further. “And you’re not the exception either. How about I give you my number instead? Maybe if I trust you enough, I’ll let you take me for a spin in that Prius.”

He rests back against his car, a soft chuckle escaping from his chest as he shakes his head. “Although I wanted to take you out for an oreo milkshake from a diner—”

“—I might need to pop a lactaid pill before that—”

Eunwoo bites his bottom lip from letting out another snicker. “—I’ll make sure to take you to it next time and that you take that anti-lactose or whatever pill. You know what makes a good diner?”

You tilt your head. “What’s that?”

“If at least one of the letters on the sign’s light goes out or flickers,” he frees the puff of smoke from his lips before tossing the filter to the ground and stomping it with the bottom of his shoe. “But I respect that. Don’t go to the homes or into cars of men you just met.”

Eunwoo unlocks his phone and clicks the green phone app before handing it to you. “I’ll text you. I got an early morning tomorrow anyway, it was probably best that you rejected my offer. After all, we would’ve talked all night.”

As cheesy as that pick up line is, it holds some truth.

Eunwoo texts you through the night—he’s funny, charming, and manages to make a simple conversation engaging. Do guys normally tell you about how they ripped their pants in front of their 4th grade classroom because they dropped their pencil during their book report read-aloud? He even got you spilling about how when you took a nap after an exam in high school, you woke yourself up from a fart and looked around to make sure no one heard that. And that’s why you never go anywhere in public after a fiber protein bar.

Then it had you thinking: why can’t Seokmin seem as interested in you as Eunwoo?

Never has he once had a conversation with you that led to the point that you were talking about the most embarrassing grade school stories. It reached to the point that you somehow looped the topic to be about the first time you’ve ever gotten so drunk, you fell asleep in front of your dorm’s vending machine! (To be fair, three of your other college friends were also knocked out in front of that very same machine).

And if you’re comparing all the boys you’ve loved before fairly, Soonyoung still ended up being your first relationship in spite of your constant inner dialogue telling you that he’d never be with you. You ended up breaking up because of college—he had gotten into his dream university that was thousands of miles away, and you couldn’t turn down the scholarship that was being offered by yours.

Seokmin is only centimeters away and still couldn’t give you the same attention that Soonyoung did in freshman year of college before you both realized it wasn’t going to work.

It’s Saturday.

Which means it’s the day.

When you spot Chan in a booth towards the front of the venue, he looks a little nervous–well, little feels like quite an understatement in that sentence. The boy is bouncing on the balls of his feet with his eyes skimming the entire arena like the very thing he’s afraid of is going to pop up at any second. He’s got on the same white racing overalls that match with the rest of Seokmin’s team with his name plastered across his back and the logos of the companies that sponsored him.

You hope that someone will wear Chan’s name one day.

There are girls that stand beside Chan in shirts with Seokmin’s numbers displayed and it leaves you wondering if he ever did anything more with them other than signing their paychecks.

“Hey,” you greet, furrowing your brows. The way Chan continuously checks his surroundings like a prey, awaiting to run away from its predator doesn’t get missed. “Where’s my sweatshirt?”

“Uh,” he stumbles with his phone in his hands, nearly dropping it on the floor before he shuffles through the shelves underneath to grab yours for you. “H-Here you go..”

You take the sweatshirt from him. “What’s up with you?”

“He’s on edge,” Chan says, fingers tapping against the table. “Well, he will be the moment he spots Wonwoo. And he could be here any minute now. I’m not sure how the fuck he’s gonna act, but he’s gonna react for sure.”

“I don’t get the whole deal with Wonwoo,” you say as you slip your arms through, pulling the sweatshirt over your head as your words get muffled in the thickness of the fabric. “He’s just some racer, right? Plus, Seok doesn’t even know how the guy drives. Why’s he so—”

As your head peeks through the neckband, you freeze when you hear that infamous name slip from Chan’s lips.

“O-Oh, hi, Wonwoo.”

“Hey, you’re… Chan, right?” he greets, hands in the front pockets of his blue jeans, a soft smile upon his face. “I saw you at that newbies tournament a couple weeks ago. You did so good, proud of you. I hope to see you with the big dogs one day.”

Hold up.

The charm, the gentle voice… those cute glasses…

He’s… Wonwoo.

The bar was infuriatingly loud that you misheard his name.

He’s not Eunwoo, and the fact that it didn’t register in your head fast enough when he kept giving you clues last night while the two of you texted until the sun rose was dumb on your part. He kept saying, “I need to get up early to drive tomorrow,” and spoke about his car incessantly like it was his passion or something. He’s fucking Wonwoo.

Well, no shit.

He’s a fucking racecar driver.

“Hey,” Wonwoo greets. He’s got on a dark washed denim jacket, and thin wire framed glasses that compliments the amiableness in his grin. There’s something about him that’s disparate to Seokmin, and you figure that it’s his affable nature drawing you in. Seokmin was a great friend, but it took a while to build that trust. Wonwoo? It only took a brief conversation for him to get your number. “Didn’t think I’d find you here. Did you sleep well?”

“Can’t say that I did,” you admit, words not matching that grin you mimic on his face. He’s so contagious when it comes to his smile. “But… I think the results of what came out of it was worth it. Did you sleep well?”

“Can’t say that I did either,” he mocks jokingly. Wonwoo’s eyes detach from yours, now averted to the image sewn into the right side of your sweatshirt. “I was going to ask what brings you here but…” he points to Seokmin’s prized possession—aka not your heart but ironically placed right above it. His car. “Seems like I know what team you’re playing for.”

“I—” you clear your throat, unsure why you’re stuttering or trying to explain yourself. You’re allowed to be here, even if you’re rooting for another driver. “I, uh, I’m here for Seokmin.”

Wonwoo raises a brow playfully. “Really? Is that so?”

Chan lets out a laugh; it seems that when Seokmin is in the room, he feels more anxious on the topic of Wonwoo. But when Wonwoo is present and Seokmin is out of the equation, the weight of the burden on his shoulders lessens. “She’s Seokmin’s lucky charm.”

“Oh, wow,” Wonwoo crosses his arms with an amused expression. “I knew it was too good to be true for you to be single. Did I make that assumption too soon? I’m sorry if I was too forward, I—”

“Oh, she’s not with Seokmin like that.”

Tempted to whack Chan on the shoulder, he’s quick with his reflexes when he realizes he must’ve struck a chord. “Hey, hey, hey, I’m just stating the facts here!” He steps away from you. “You and him aren’t official, and probably won’t be for a while or even at all. I’m just saying, if Wonwoo here is shooting his shot, maybe let him aim for you, yeah?”

You narrow your gaze at the younger male. “Lee Chan.”

Wonwoo furrows his brows in confusion. “What am I missing’ at here?”

“She’s a hopeless romantic,” Chan adds, nudging you. “Seokmin said that if she’d wait for him, he’d come to her when he’s ready.”

Wonwoo clicks his tongue. “Sounds kinda fucked up.” It is fucked up, but what is also fucked up is that Chan is exposing you. What if Wonwoo has a certain perspective of you now?

The stern tone in your voice when you call his name doesn’t feel threatening this time around, only because in his mind, he sees a new boyfriend candidate for you. Chan’s a brother you never had, a kid who wanted the best for the girl who was close enough to be his sister. He smiles, learning speedily that Wonwoo might be the first guy other than Seokmin to tug on your heartstrings.

“I mean, Seokmin might not be happy about it but he’s never been mad at you, so I doubt you’ll piss him off,” Chan grins cheekily. “So, Wonwoo. How do you know my lovely friend?”

“We met at the bar last night,” Wonwoo begins, and although the answer was for Chan, his sparkling irises are on you. So… he wasn’t put off by the whole thing? “Clicked, hopefully hit it off, she gave me her number, and we had a nice talk over text. Needless to say, we talked all night.” He chuckles, finally breaking contact with you and glances over at Chan. “Probably explains the dark circles under my eyes, but definitely worth it. Even if she’s wearing merch from my competitor.”

With a hand slipping into your own back pocket, you roll your lips. Okay. He’s endearing. Somehow, he manages to get you to forget about Seokmin for a brief moment.

Wonwoo zeroes in on you. “I don’t know about you, but I enjoyed our conversation. And I’m hoping that you’d be okay if I asked you on a date sometime… even if you have your reservations about taking it up because of him.”

Mouth slightly agape, the fear of the race dissipates from Chan. Instead, awe is replaced at the sight of you and Seokmin’s competition. Since when did you steal the heart of one of the best street racers? Even you have to mentally give yourself a pat on the shoulder for being able to swoon two desirable men. What is this? Some shitty written romance movie?

To be fair, you never really want to say yes when a guy asks you out. They’ve never given you a good reason to, especially when you had Seokmin on your mind most of the time. But for once, just this once, Wonwoo makes you forget. Somehow he fogs up your thoughts with him instead of the guy you’ve been waiting for so helplessly. It was to the point that you found yourself pathetic, even, but with Wonwoo, you don’t feel that way anymore.

He listens. And for someone who you only met for a day, he talked to you as if he’d known you for a lifetime. Wonwoo shared his deepest insecurities, his dreams, and the things and people he loved within those late hours.

It’s more than Seokmin has ever done and he’d been your best friend for a while.

“I’d… I think I’d like that.”

He sort of makes your heart skip a beat. “Great,” there was an excited bounce in his stance, “what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do?”

“I don’t know, anything but changing a tire,” you say in a second, and Wonwoo laughs at your response. He’s really good at this whole ‘make a girl fall in love with me’ thing because your face heats up in embarrassment when you realize how lame your joke was. “… I’m just kidding. But I’ll let you make the plans.”

“Sure, I’ll plan the date.” Rolling his lips, he tilts his head to the side with a narrowed stare. “But, I should ask. Do you know how to change a tire?”

You shrug. “My best friend says if that ever happened, he’s a call away.”

“And if he’s not?”

“He will,” you answer, the tone in your words firm but underlying, the foundation of it is shaky. “He promised.”

There’s uneasiness in his expression, watching as you fiddle with your fingers as if you’re the one who feels uncertain about what you said. “Alright, if he says so. But uh,” he sneaks a glimpse at the television screen that displays on the side of the track, quickly patting Chan’s shoulder before giving the two of you a slight wave. “I gotta head out. I’ll talk to ‘ya later, yea?”

And with that, he disappears along with the crowd of people who begin to flood the arena with their tickets in hand and cups of beers in the other. Wonwoo was mysterious yet an open book in unison, and despite what people say about strangers at a bar, he doesn’t feel like one.

“Shit, before I interrogate you and Seokmin beats the shit out of us—well, me, he likes you—we gotta go. They’re preppin’ and I don’t wanna miss anything. I’m supposed to be the understudy and he’ll be so pissed if I’m late.” He’s stumbling to grab his belongings, “And he’s already dumb mad that I put whole milk instead of almond in his coffee this morning.”

Although the words are ready to leave the tip of your tongue, Chan bolts out of there faster than they could spill.

Then it hits.

At the moment, it happens in the blink of an eye. The amount of anxiety that was churning through your stomach, and your heart racing at the speed of the cars on the track, you didn’t realize the mess you caught yourself in.

You agreed to go on a date with your best friend’s enemy.

But in all honesty, you didn’t think you’d be able to confront Wonwoo again and tell him that you couldn’t. He was so goddamn fucking charming, exhibiting manners that all the mothers around the world would praise him for. Anyone who would find out that you turned down a date with a guy like Wonwoo would probably give you an earful.

Then again, Seokmin might give you an earful.

Maybe you won’t tell him.

It’s one date… right?

Plus, with Wonwoo being himself, there’s no way that Seokmin could actually be that annoyed with him. He spoke to Chan in such a respectful way, treated him like a younger classmate, and even expressed how proud he was of him for getting to where he is now. Seokmin couldn’t actually hate Wonwoo on the track. Couldn’t be possible.

That is until you saw living proof right in front of you.

Seokmin is tempted; fists clamped shut at his side, you see him inhale in a deep breath that juts his chest out. His nose does a little spasm, irritated even though he attempts to hold himself back. “Go back to where you belong.”

You find yourself back in Seokmin’s pit, expecting him to do his frequent routine before he hopped into the vehicle. Instead, he’s standing right outside of his car, face to face with Jeon Wonwoo who remains calm, cool, and collected, paying no mind that Seokmin is just inches away from driving his fist into Wonwoo’s cheekbone. It’s enticing, but Seokmin knows he can’t do it in public with thousands of people watching.

“Come on, Dokyeom, I’m allowed on the track,” he’s got a smug look on his face as he speaks. “It’s not like shit’s got your name outside the stadium. You don’t own it.”

“Dokyeom?” You reiterate, head turning from Wonwoo to Seokmin. “Why’s he calling you Dokyeom?”

Seokmin doesn’t break his stare on Wonwoo. Jaw clenched, teeth gritting, he even sucks in his cheeks in the heat of the moment with his fists fully balled by his sides. The fury in his eyes were burning flames that you fear would somehow spread into reality and burn the arena down. “Wonwoo, I thought you said you’d stay out of my way.”

“I never said anything,” the other male says tranquilly, zipping up his navy blue racing overalls up to his neck. In comparison to Seokmin, Wonwoo doesn’t have as many sponsors other than for three companies that barely had any fame to their name. “All I said was that I didn’t know if I'd make it up here with the big dogs. And well, look at me. Livin’ the dream. You should be proud of me, Kyeom, not throwing a bitch fit.”

“You fucking lied.”

“Why’s it matter?” Wonwoo queries, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. “Are you nervous? I thought you didn’t get nervous. Is it ‘cause you finally found someone with the equal amount of skill here? You can’t win forever, Kyeom-ie. One of these days, you gotta be kicked off that goddamn pedestal. Not a hot look for you.”

“Alright, alright,” you interject, pushing Seokmin’s (or was it Dokyeom’s) chest back to prevent him from making the first swing. “It’s almost time to start and I’d rather have you both behind the wheel without a bruised eye.”

“The only fucking bitch leaving here with a bruised face is him,” Seokmin hisses, but his body loosens the tenseness when he feels your touch. “Get off my turf, Jeon Wonwoo. You don’t belong here.”

And just on time, his name is written in bright letters across the television screens surrounding the arena.

JEON WONWOO, RACER NUMBER FIVE.

With a cocky grin, Wonwoo crosses his arms as he glances up at his name displayed and back on Seokmin. “It looks like everyone here begs to differ. See you on the track, Kyeomie.”

With an exasperated scoff, he tosses his gloves onto the ground. Wonwoo doesn’t bat a lash or even sneak a glance at the turmoil he leaves behind, instead he waltzes his way to his crew members who don’t dress in uniform as Seokmin’s team did.

“That jackass,” he hisses. “Does he fucking understand that this place isn’t for him?”

“Why’d he call you Dokyeom?” It’s bold of you to ask a question in the middle of his tantrum, but you’ve been patient enough. “I thought your real name was Seokmin.”

The anger still pulls on his features–he used to go soft for you. “It was a nickname I had.”

“From what?”

“Don’t ask,” he says curtly. “You don’t need to know my past—all you need to be is here. You’re my lucky charm and I need you here so I can win.”

With that, he slips his helmet on, flipping down the shield to cover his face. Ever since Wonwoo’s name was brought up in conversations, Seokmin’s demeanor changes and he doesn’t feel right; he isn’t quite the same person as he used to be. There’s something about Wonwoo that irritates him, and although he incessantly states that it’s because he’s a street racer, you think there’s more than what he lets out to be.

As told, you sit in the bleachers patiently, legs pressed together anxiously with your thermos filled with your coffee in hand, watching as Seokmin climbs into the driver’s seat of his vehicle.

Like you’re supposed to.

As you’re asked to.

Just as you always do.

There’s always this part of you that wonders: Is it worth waiting for a guy like Seokmin to notice you in the way you see him? During those late nights, the ones where he doesn’t go off into the sunset with a pretty girl under his arm, he lays underneath the stars with you, and reminds you that you’re the person that he wants to settle down with. Seokmin says he sees the two of you, on the porch with your rocking chairs of your future home with a big lawn, kids running on the grass with screams and laughter, sharing nothing but love for each other.

But each time he walks away with someone who isn’t you, the wait becomes more of a struggle.

It’s worse than waiting for the results of an exam that you know you failed, that feeling of being sick to your stomach and on the verge of vomiting. Your chest aches more than a sad, angsty romcom you’d watch back in your teenage years as if you’d experience the same heartbreak as the couples on the big screen.

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